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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24787171">Swan Song</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverEnoughCats/pseuds/NeverEnoughCats'>NeverEnoughCats</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>South Park</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Monster Hunters, Alternate Universe - Western, Background Relationships, Cowboys &amp; Cowgirls, Eventual Romance, Gunslinger Kyle, Inuit Kenny, K2 - Freeform, M/M, Slow Burn, South Park: Phone Destroyer AU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:54:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>25,884</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24787171</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverEnoughCats/pseuds/NeverEnoughCats</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Deputy Kyle just wants to find South Park's cattle killer, he didn't expect to be dragged into a world of monster hunting and demons but at least there was Kenny, pretty blond idiot he saved outside town and claiming to be an expert hunter - if only Kenny could stop flirting with him to focus on the job.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kyle Broflovski/Kenny McCormick, Stan Marsh/Wendy Testaburger</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Blue moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: don't own SP.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Kyle leaned back in the rocking chair Denkins lent him, inspecting the messy lines in his notebook.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Farmer Carl Denkins lost four cows, the McMurphys on their eight and ten from old man Lawrence along with a few sheep. Total loss was twenty two cattle and five sheep - although no pigs, he noted. He grimaced at his atrocious handwriting compared to his usual neatness but it had been nearly two weeks since he got proper sleep instead of running around South Park trying to find their cattle killer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing, he tucked his book into his vest and idly toyed with one of his revolvers. The familiar metal was warming in his palm, a comfort that he could dismantle and clean it whenever he needed something to do with his hands but he refrained - instead focusing on the problem.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All three farmers kept their cattle and sheep in the open field, but none of the pigs they left out of the pen were touched. The killer targeted full grown cows regardless of gender and at most weighed a thousand pounds, yet there were no tracks or signs of a struggle of a cougar or bear dragging it off when Kyle investigated. All he could find was a few drops of blood drying in the sun and the fearful gaze of the remaining herd, the only temporary solution mayor Wendy could come up with was to have a nightwatch system - and it worked so far. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So here he was, stationed at Denkins’ as nightwatch alone instead of his buddy Stan beside him because the warrior’s dad tried to reenact a Pocahontas scene around a cliff again - that and Cartman refused to assign anyone else as his partner since ‘Jewpacabras’ didn’t attack fellow Jews. Kyle had gotten only to punch fatass in the face once before Stan dragged him away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The night was calm, crickets singing and the occasional moo from the cattle. Kite shuffled slightly in place, hooves kicking up dust and tugging the leash Kyle tied around the fencing before settling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wish I could sleep standing up too,” Kyle muttered to himself, eyeing his horse enviously. He could sleep now, exhaustion heavy in his bones and Denkins was kind enough to lend him a grandma-worthy rocking chair - it was more than comfortable enough to catch up a snooze or five that he needed but unlike a certain sheriff, Kyle took his job seriously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a groan, the gunslinger stood up and stretched. He hosteled his gun and debated on a quick patrol around the field. To warm up, he mused, the nights were cold after all despite his thick coat. There was enough moonlight to light up his path without bringing out a lantern, Kyle kept close to the fence as his guide when he froze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two small specks of lights flashed in the distance. He squinted in the dark but it was like seeing stars from the corner of his sight and disappearing if he looked at them directly. North, the gunslinger noted, bandit territory. The lights seemed almost violet, vivid and otherworldly in the night. Unmoving unlike fireflies or will ‘o wisps. They dimmed, flickered back to life then one of the lights went out and came back after a few heartbeats almost like a wink - </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wait.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Briefly, Kyle wondered what kind of genetics in pigments would allow purple irises while he slowly backed away with one hand by his hostel. The violet gaze - yeah, they were definitely eyes - watched him hyper focused, reflective in the dark and crouched low to the ground. Likely a mutated cougar or lone wolf and fortunately too far to be any real danger but his instincts insisted not to turn his back to it regardless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dirt and gravel replaced the grass under his boots when Kyle reached the Denkins’ porch, the two pale orbs shifted as though cocking its head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go away,” the gunslinger hissed, tempted to call for Denkins just so someone else can confirm that yes, there were a pair of eyes watching him and no, he was not crazy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The orbs gave another wink before vanishing into the shadows. Kyle waited for them to return and after what was five minutes according to his pocket watch, before returning to the chair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m telling you for the last fucking, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kahl</span>
  </em>
  <span> - it’s the Jewpacabra. It’s his thing, everyone knows that he eats cows first, then he goes for children!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle didn’t know why he bothered giving his nightwatch reports to Cartman. He probably used his written reports to wipe his ass - then complain that it wasn’t good enough. “And I’m telling </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>to stop bringing that shit up! There’s no such thing as a Jewpacabra!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, no I’m pretty sure there is because it looks just like your mom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You take that back!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan, who the mayor recently appointed to help them with planning trips outside town and lately nightwatches, stood up. He rolled up the maps from the table, stuffing them in his bag. “If you guys keep this up, I’m leaving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell him he’s wrong, Stan,” Kyle addressed his best friend while Cartman sneered at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Stan tell me about your pussy folklore stories that your tribe believes in. We can even build you a bonfire so you can feel all <em>kewl</em> and savage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The warrior kicked the door open. “Fuck you, Cartman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s sheriff to you, savage!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle ignored the urge to draw his guns. South Park didn’t adore its sheriff but it also didn’t like sheriff killers - even if it was a deputy doing the deed and the sheriff was an asshole. He chose to follow and catch up with his best friend. “Stan, wait. I’m sorry I dragged you into that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever,” the young warrior huffed before nodding to his bag, “you still want to go through these? We can do it with Wendy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, it’s not like Cartman’s going to.” It was late enough that the mayor should be finishing up her tasks, not that time had ever stopped Stan from visiting her. They continued through the town, taking shortcuts in pressing silence before Kyle had to break it, “how’s your dad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s fine, broke his arm when he fell so mom’s pissed. He blamed it on the wind telling him to do it, something about painting too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t that a thing about the wind and hearing voices?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan shrugged halfheartedly. “Probably. I didn’t really pay attention to Jimmy’s stories.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about purple eyes in the dark?” Kyle blurted out before he could stop himself, he had left that part out of the report - just another uneventful night. He wasn’t sure if Cartman would laugh it off, insult his sanity or arrange a massive hunt for the creature because he knew Kyle was never one to joke in his reports. Probably all of the above.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not that I know of,” Stan gave him a confused look before slowing down as they neared the mayor’s office, “did something happen last night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I saw this pair of glowing eyes looking at me. They were violet, like asters or foxgloves flowers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You probably saw an animal and it looked that colour from an angle. You know, light reflects or something, and when was the last time you slept?” the warrior asked with a frown and sighed at the other’s grim expression, “I’ll ask Jimmy if he knows anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks man.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stan had accompanied him for the next night, but the eyes didn’t come back. Kyle was embarrassed, and almost disappointed - ghostly eyes were more interesting compared to cows shitting as they slept. The next two nights he got replaced by people Wendy arranged until she came knocking at his door at nearly midnight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kyle, I’m so sorry but I need you to take over the shift at farmer Denkins, the guys on shift called in sick.” Wendy immediately went into business and Kyle took a step back to observe her. The mayor was dressed in a heavy dark purple coat, gold accents and a fading pink ribbon bow on the collar. In one hand she held a dull gray briefcase, in the other she held a hand. Kyle looked up at the owner of said hand, Stan was dressed in his hunting gear and looking ready to fall asleep. By his heel, Sparky the wolfdog sat waiting with a wagging tail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you two planning to elope because I’m sure nobody would object to your marriage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wendy paused for a moment and Stan sputtered protests, cheeks flushing furiously before Wendy spoke over him, “I’ll explain tomorrow but I need you at the farm in ten minutes right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gunslinger shifted to peek out of his house. Shelly stood at the edge of the Broflovski’s yard, arms crossed and glaring at the ground. He hadn't seen the sharp-shooter in years since she moved to Denver with her husband. A brown-haired man in dirty clothes Kyle had never seen before was beside her, rubbing Shelly’s back to calmed her down. Presumably the said husband. He counted five horses and four riders, questions on the tip of his tongue but he bit down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be there in five,” Kyle gave in and shuffled away to grab his coat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you so much,” Wendy called out to him while swiftly tugging Stan back to the horses, murmuring quietly to herself, “if all goes well, this will be the last shift we ever need.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle hung back to watch the group gather by the horses, Shelly’s unknown companion handed Stan a bundle of orange before Wendy snapped something, starting their way off into the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like a good son, Kyle checked on his parents as he gathered his gear. Sleeping, thank god. Sheila would freak out if she knew he was on another nightwatch, even if it was ordered by the mayor herself. If his steps past Ike’s dusty door were a little too fast, he didn’t acknowledge them. Kite let out a disgruntled huff when he woke it up, the stallion tried bucking him off once in discontent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry pal,” Kyle said as he gave an apologetic pat along his mount’s neck, “Wendy says this will be the last one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As promised, the gunslinger reached Denkins’ farm in little under five minutes. He didn’t bother leashing Kite this time, knowing the horse would come at a whistle wherever it wandered off to. Spotting the rocking chair, he was about to approach it when he felt the gaze of someone or thing upon him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously?” He grumbled to himself at the sight of two violet orbs in the distance, they seemed closer this time. Irritation flared and without thinking, he found himself walking over to the edge of the farm and cupping his hands around his mouth, “why didn’t you appear when my friend was here? You made me look dumb!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The eyes twinkled, like stupid stars in twilight as though it was funny for an angry man to be yelling at seemingly nothing in the dead of night. A hand found the handle of one of his revolvers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think this is funny? Come over here and I’ll show you funny!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They winked at him and Kyle felt his cheeks heat up at the absurdity of the situation. It probably was a little funny. He should also probably stop taunting the unknown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He started heading back to the safety of the porch when something shifted in the corner of his eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What now?” Kyle groaned and drew the revolver. It wasn’t the eyes but a few warning shots should spook whatever the newcomer was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shape was moving on two legs and hunched slightly like a trained bear, walking - no, stomping its way to the fence yet Kyle couldn’t hear it. Not a sound came from the shape, no crushed grass or snapping of twigs or the telltale sign of heavy stomps like a raging bull dashing towards him. Simply an unnerving silence that if Kyle had not seen the shape, he would never have known it was there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey! You’re on private property,” he yelled at them, “hands where I can see them or else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pause, as if considering his words before the shape turned away from the fence to him instead and straightened up to its full height. It was huge, likely taller than Denkin’s barn and making its fucking way downtown walking way too fast - towards him. An unnatural chill washed over him as glowing red eyes - like hellfire, alive and wild - locked onto his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit,” Kyle breathed, taking aim and squeezing the trigger. A warning shot, it went past the thing’s head and it didn’t even flinch or slow down. The gunshot was familiar to him but rang throughout the area sounding louder than usual. The herd began crowding away from him and to the edge of the fences while a light turned on in Denkins’ house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Part of him, a fighter, was determined that the next shot would work. His aim was one of the best in town, nobody can survive a bullet to the head. The rest of him however, a realistic bastard, knew he should run. He had to get Denkins out, on to Kite and back to town before that thing caught up. It could have the cows for all he cared. </span>
  <span>A sharp whistle and Kyle heard familiar hooves beating against the ground but Kite was too far - and the thing too near. He was close enough to smell the rust and rot in the air, see faint outlines of fur only covering half its body and weird ears - one rounded and the other pointed tip. He fired twice, both shots sinking into the thing’s neck and chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It twitched then stopped, staring over the gunslinger’s head. Kyle couldn’t help but glance back, the violet eyes were closer than before and narrowed in a glare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moments later, the thing turned tail and ran - silent stomps past the farm and ignoring the cattle until it disappeared. Kyle heard Denkins yell and hurried back to the house, meeting the farmer who was frantically waving his shotgun around at the threat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you see that?! I sure as hecking saw it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, uh,” Kyle glanced back to the north, the purple ghost eyes met his gaze momentarily before slowly blinking shut. They didn’t come back. “I think so.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Predictably, the town didn’t like the idea of a giant cow stealing monster running about. Denkins went to the saloon for a drink to calm his shaking hands, his drinking buddies asked and there was an angry crowd outside the mayor’s office. Barbrady stood in front, trying to calm them down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Move aside people, I’m on official business.” Kyle announced as he made his way through the mob to the doors. He wasn’t, but people knew he worked with the sheriff and mayor often enough so they parted for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Howdy, Broflovski,” Clyde, the guard on duty inside the office greeted him when he finally got inside, “got an appointment?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, kind of.” Wendy </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>say she would explain whatever the fuck happened last night. “Is the mayor in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope, she’s on emergency leave. That’s why I kicked everyone outside. Told them to take a number after she came back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gunslinger frowned. Wendy was never one to suddenly drop her responsibilities. He did however, know that Clyde had always been something of a gossip, “did she say where she went?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, she left a note that there were some issues out of town,” the guard lowered his voice and grinned, “I’d bet she’s out with a secret lover - but she took Stan with her so who knows? Maybe it’s to introduce him to her mistress.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, I’ll come back when she does then.” Nodding his thanks and farewells, Kyle steeled himself to face the waiting mob as he left the office. To his surprise, the crowd had dispensed leaving only a few disgruntled men lingering and a certain Eric fucking Cartman wearing a shit-eating grin speaking to Barbrady.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle stiffly walked up to them, tipping his hat in greeting. “Barbrady. Sheriff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How nice of you to join us, deputy.” Cartman jeered as he turned to face him, thumbs in his belt casually, “I was just telling Buttbaby here that there was no need to panic, everyone knows how to handle a Jewpacabra.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I warned you.” Kyle reminded, rolling up his sleeves. Stan wasn’t here to stop him this time and Cartman realised that, ducking behind Barbrady. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, wait, hear me out! We just need to set a trap. I was thinking maybe a donation from everyone in town,” the sheriff explained from his human shield, “shouldn’t be too much to ask especially from someone like you, with your mom running the general store and dad as our town’s bank teller.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop running away, you coward.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cartman tsked at him, twisting around Barbrady when Kyle tried to circle him. “Come on, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kahl</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Look at the big picture: we lure it out with whatever your greedy kind likes - which is money and writing dairies in stuffy attics - then shoot it dead. I just want to keep the town safe, don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle caught Cartman by the collar and jerked him away from Barbrady to snarl in his face. “Listen here, fatass. Just because Wendy isn’t here doesn’t mean you can start making decisions. You’re gonna get people killed with your stupid ideas, you fucking muff cabbage!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Careful </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kahl</span>
  </em>
  <span>, your Jersey is showing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t fucking care,” Kyle gritted out. He raised his fist and Cartman cowered away with a squeal. “You’re not gonna mess this up for everyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbrady chose that moment to cut in, hands on both their shoulders placatingly. “Okay boys, no fighting out here. Move along you two.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Under the insistent sunglasses gaze of the officer, Kyle reluctantly released Cartman. The sheriff took a step back, dusted himself off and stared the deputy down. “So what? You got a better idea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what,” eyes the shade of purple aster flowers and how the creature fled came to mind and the gunslinger shot Cartman a smirk, “I do. And it’s definitely better than your dumb money bait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah? I bet my hat that you don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All your cheesy poofs and you to do your paperwork for a month, properly,” Kyle challenged and ignored the small voice at the back of his mind whispering that this was a bad idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cartman grimaced, a calculative glint in his eyes. “Only if you bet </span>
  <em>
    <span>both </span>
  </em>
  <span>your guns - and I get a free pass at the general store for a year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One month and it’s limited to one thing a day.” The voice was much louder and it kind of sounded like his mother, so Kyle hushed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two months.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One and a half.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, deal.” Cartman grumbled and shoved a hand out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle took it and shook it with grim determination. “Deal.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a bad idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so fucked,” the gunslinger groaned and resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. He needed to hold his guns and keep a watchful eye of his surroundings. Beside him, Kite leaned over to chew on the brim of his hat as if in agreement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Denkins’ farm was at the edge of town, north of that was unsurprisingly North Park, give or take two hours away if you rode by horse or carriage. Past that was Denver in four hours. The land in between the towns used to be a regular trading route for merchants and housed a gold mine - until the bandit problem that preyed on the travelers and mine workers grew out of control. Now people took a safer detour through West Park or the railroad in East Park, leaving the route abandoned to gangs and outlaws.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>According to the map, the place where the eyes appeared was one of the abandoned mine’s many entrances. A wide tunnel that branched out into small caves used to house supplies for the miners with a ladder at the back leading into the main mines. Kyle eyed the entrance, noting the old painted figure of a canine’s head. The Jackals, one of the bigger gangs around with a trademark of a brown-grey scarf or bandana on their person. There were boot prints in the dust, empty cans and whiskey bottles littered around - but no bandit jumped out from the shadows to ambush him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is the South Park deputy,” Kyle shouted into the tunnel, a bad taste on his mouth at the title, “we have you surrounded, come out and reach for the sky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His echo answered him, fading away at the last word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a grim frown, Kyle gave Kite one last head pat then lifted the kerosene lantern he borrowed from the store and started in. There were signs of recent life: a gambling table covered with cards and coins, half-finished bottles of whiskey and rum. The first cave revealed a sleeping den, beds unmade and articles of clothing thrown about carelessly. The second was a food supply of sort, crates of rotting fruits and jerky. He went further, the lantern lit the floor for him to spot a form that made Kyle stop in his tracks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A man laid in the middle of the tunnel, face down in a puddle of his own blood. Bandit, Jackal bandana on his arm. A knife still gripped in hand, Kyle didn’t bother kicking it away considering the corpse had a huge hole in his chest. Multiple stab wounds. The gunslinger noted that the body was slowly decomposing - as expected in the coolness of a cave - but found only a few flies around. Weird, he mused and pulled his bandana up to his nose to stifle the scent of rot as he continued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He found more bodies littered deeper, same wounds on some while nearly half of them seemingly had no wounds - yet no flies on the latter, as if refusing to go near those bodies. All of them had one thing in common, he concluded, they appeared to be fleeing from something in the back of the last cave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I should go home, he thought. He could win his guns back from Cartman through another stupid bet and pay his mom whatever the fatass took from the store. It wasn’t worth finding what the fuck killed some of the nastiest gangs in the Midwest and if Stan were here, he would had dragged Kyle out the moment they found the first woundless body claiming evil spirits even though he knew his friend didn’t really believe in them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead what came from his mouth was, “I’m gonna be so pissed if I die like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last cave was smaller than the others, empty save for some large unused cages and a bundle of torn rope in a corner. A small table sat at the side with a used candle and books caught Kyle’s attention as he carefully approached it. He flipped the book to a random page.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Male, 25. Black.. Merchant, Denver. Sold.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Female, 15. White. Runaway, West Park. Sold.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Male, 30s. Indian. Merchant, tribe. Killed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Female, 32. Indian. Wife, tribe. Escaped.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle snapped the book shut with a grimace. The Jackals were known for kidnapping and slavery but he didn’t think they would operate so closely to town. He would tell Wendy when she came back, get North Park to bulk the fuck up and take back the route from the bandits to stop this. Hesitantly, he flipped to the latest edition in hopes for more insight.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Male, 20s. White. Traveler.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh,” the gunslinger breathed. Neither sold or killed. Maybe he escaped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle tucked the book into his vest and headed out. The ladder leading into the mines looked like someone had taken an axe to it, the lower floor below caved in. With no other leads, the gunslinger reluctantly left the tunnel and back into the light. The heat of the afternoon was strong and he almost missed the cool dark of the tunnel but he had to search elsewhere so he put his fingers to his lips and whistled hard. He waited for the usual hooves and worry began to gnaw him when Kite didn’t appear.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kite?” He called out to his horse, starting down the path along the outside of the cave that he didn’t explore. The stallion was too headstrong to let anyone other than himself ride it and was known to have a temper approached by strangers. He wasn’t too worried about someone stealing Kite, he had seen the horse bite the fingers off a bandit once during an ambush, he was more concerned about it wandering off cliffs. The stallion always seemed to like high places.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took a few long agonising minutes of frantic searching when he spotted the grey horse around a bend. Kite was nosing something on the ground, snorting loudly. Kyle whistled again, the horse ignored him. Shadows danced around, Kyle looked up to see a few vultures lazily circling overhead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you eating something weird again?” sighed the gunslinger as he approached. Never directly behind a horse in case it kicks, always keep yourself in its sights as his dad once taught him but Kite didn’t seem to care - too busy chewing on brown fabric.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wait, what?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nudging Kite’s head out of the way, Kyle knelt down at the curled up figure. A young man, dressed head to toe in thick brown cloth. Not a Jackal, and he didn’t recognise the attire. Maybe a native from a distant tribe? He couldn’t see the face, hidden in a hood edged with dirty fur. He could practically feel the heat radiate off the guy, likely baked to death in that heavy parka. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Poor bastard,” Kite let out a heavy exhale and pushed past its rider, leaning down to nose the body’s side insistently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The corpse twitched and curled up even more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck?” Kyle breathed, dumbstruck and staring in horror. It took a moment before he shook himself out of his daze. Shoving the hood down revealed a flushed face and blonde hair, Kyle hissed and pulled back when his palm touched burning skin. Pulse too fast, breathing shallow and quick. Skin was too hot, but no sweating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heat stroke, Kyle concluded as he heaved the blond up into his arms bridal-style. He hurried back to the tunnel for shade, whistling for Kite to follow. The gunslinger wasn’t too familiar with illnesses but he knew enough and set the blond down to tear the parka off the stranger - pausing briefly when he found fair, naked skin underneath before going for the pants. What kind of idiot goes around in thick ass clothing with no underwear?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cooling the core temperature was the next step, but with no river or pond nearby for a full body immersion Kyle went for his traveling sack on Kite’s saddle. He had a canteen of water, a spare and a large water bag meant for Kite that Stan gifted him for a birthday after finding out that Kite was a thirsty boy. Kyle silently thanked his best friend for his ingenious idea as he poured the water bag over the blond’s body. Then he moved to his canteen, raising the other’s head up slightly enough so he shouldn’t choke before forcing fingers into the stranger’s mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s to save a life,” Kyle told himself as he took in a mouthful of water, then pressed his lips against the other’s. Heat stroke came from prolonged exposure to heat and dehydration, he took care of the former but the stranger was unconscious to fulfill the latter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle got two mouthfuls in, watched intently as the pale throat bobbed in a swallow, before the blond coughed and sputtered on the third. He hissed when precious water dripped down as the man tried to move away, pulling the canteen to safety and grabbing the other’s shoulders to hold him still. “Stop struggling damnit, I’m trying to help you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blond blinked up at him tiredly as he stopped wiggling. Kyle couldn’t help but stared back, part of him admiring the vivid blue shade of his eyes akin to a cloudless sky in the afternoon. His gaze shifted downwards to cracked lips when they shifted and parted to let out a quiet hoarse voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I in heaven?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A startled laugh escaped Kyle’s own lips before he clamped it down. “If heaven is being soaked in water inside a dusty cave, sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must be an angel then.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can assure you that I’m not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably, an angel would at least wine and dine me before taking off my clothes,” the blond slurred, his eyelids lowering and Kyle stared at the thick lashes fluttering. Then he leaned forward and slapped the other lightly, jolting him back to life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First of all, I took them off to save you, okay? Second, don’t fall asleep. I need you to drink more,” Kyle reached down to grab a limp wrist and pressed the canteen against the other’s hand, “can you do that on your own?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blond licked his lips at the remaining droplets and Kyle ignored the warmth in his face, “if I say no?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too bad then,” the gunslinger bit out and pulled away, stomping back to his horse where Kite sniffed old whiskey bottles. If the dumbass could tease people then he could drink on his own. He searched through his pack for his spare canteen, watching the strange man sit up slowly and drain the rest of the water. He seemed around Kyle’s age, lean muscle and long legs like a hunter. No scars or wounds on flushed skin, the only notable markings were freckles dusting across the blond’s cheeks and collarbone. Kyle looked up to meet the other’s gaze - he was wearing an oddly calm expression for someone who had nearly died from heat stroke until it was replaced with a teasing grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like what you see?” cooed the blond, voice now firmer and smoother than before with amusement coating his tone, “because I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scowling, Kyle stomped back over and glared down at him as he took his empty canteen and replaced it with his spare. He wasn’t too sure how much water someone should drink to recover but more was probably better until they got to a doctor. “What’s your name and what were you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kenny, nice to meet you too. I was escaping,” the blond answered cheerily while he took a few grateful sips, “what about you, my handsome saviour?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kyle Broflovski,” Kyle snorted and nodded to the deeper parts of the tunnel, “what happened to those people?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I killed them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle stared at the naked, smiling strange man who was foolish enough to walk around dressed for the worst of winter. The abrupt realisation that maybe Kenny wasn’t as innocent as he seemed, that his revolvers had been hoisted when he carried Kenny around and how he was alone in a fucking mineshaft without telling anyone beforehand. Over a stupid bet with Cartman. It was like he was setting himself up to be killed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if hearing his thoughts, Kenny raised the canteen in a toast. “You’re a kind man, Mr Broflovski. I get it if you don’t trust me or want to, y’know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny’s free hand formed a gun and held it to his head as he took another sip from the canteen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I wanted you dead, I’d have left you in the sun dumbass,” Kyle snapped at the careless gesture, but found himself relaxing slightly. “And call me Kyle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t have to want someone killed to hold them at gunpoint. Some people see it as a sex thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re ridiculous,” Kyle snipped back, purposely ignoring that last part. Kenny slowly stood up on shaky legs, looking ready to fall over and armed with literally nothing. Not quite what Kyle imagined could take out a dozen bandits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Humming in agreement, the blond glanced at his abandoned clothes nearby.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you dare,” Kyle warned sternly, snatching up Kenny’s clothes before the other could and then shrugged off his coat and held it out to him. He refused to let the idiot wear his stupid dirty parka to overheat and undo his hard work. “Put this on, I’m bringing you back to town for a police report of what happened and get checked with the doctor. What the hell were you thinking anyway, walking around the sun dressed like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, they were all I had?” Kenny offered as he tugged on the coat. He was taller than Kyle by a few inches but the gunslinger’s frame was broader so the coat covered him well enough. Kenny made an attempt at pulling the collar over his nose and failed with a pout. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were you trying to cook yourself alive?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shrug. Kenny took a step forward and stumbled. Kyle reached out and hooked an arm around the other, guiding him out of the tunnel. “I was told Colorado was cold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe, in another universe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny hummed again, blinking slowly as though in a daze. A previous concern came back to Kyle, an old story of how the summer heat had cooked a kid’s brains to scare children into staying hydrated. Visit the doc first, Kyle decided, the report could wait. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you just loot their clothes?” Kyle pressed, feeling Kenny’s weight grow against his side with every step as they neared the horse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m many things,” Kenny said with another weak shrug and shifted his head to mumble into the junction between Kyle’s shoulder and neck, “but I’m no thief.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gunslinger tensed at the distracting closeness as he tried to focus. How the fuck were they going to get back to town? He had never rode double on Kite before, the saddle was too small and he wasn’t too sure if Kenny could stay awake to ride behind or hold onto his waist but riding in front was a risky new weight on the horse’s back - and super gay. The best option was to let Kenny ride while he led his mount on foot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s his name?” Kenny asked, eyeing the stallion in awe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kite, he’s not the strongest but he makes it up for speed,” the gunslinger explained as he left Kenny to pack his stuff away and pull out a handful of sugar cubes, “feed him these.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny obeyed, offering the stallion the treats in an open palm. Fortunately Kite ate them without tearing off Kenny’s hand and sniffed Kenny curiously. The horse chose nibbling blond locks over ripping faces off. Lucky bastard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, you’re going to ride him while I’ll lead. No funny business, hear me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t tell jokes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny blinked sleepily at Kyle. “Did you hear what the horse said to the ball remover? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Neigh</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not what I meant but no jokes either,” Kyle could feel the incoming headache, “I was talking about you stealing my horse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t even know how to ride a horse, much less steal one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just relax, don’t fight the rhythm and squeeze his flank with your legs,” Kyle advised as he helped the other into the saddle, taking the reins to lead Kite. He paused, frowning at the glaring sun above then at Kenny’s hunched shoulder. He took off his hat and held it to the blond. “Here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Kenny said with a soft grateful smile as he hid his face with the brim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle dragged a hand through his hair and turned away, blaming his blushing cheeks on the heat. “No problem.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kyle was tired, pissed and suffering from sunburn by the time South Park came into view. In a weird way he was glad that Kenny was too out of it to hold any real conversations, the blond busy between watching their surroundings and trying not to fall off the horse - only asking a few short questions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you say the town’s called?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t. South Park.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You from there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gunslinger felt a little bad at his clipped replies but he couldn’t help it, promising to apologise later. Instead he led Kite a little quicker past familiar buildings, ignoring curious gazes of townsfolk in his beeline to the clinic. Swiftly, he tied the reins to the post outside, helped Kenny down and entered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Kyle - oh that’s a really bad sunburn,” Sharon cut herself off, grimacing in concern at the sight of her son’s friend. “I’ll get you some water and aloe.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Him first, Mrs Marsh,” bit out Kyle while he nudged Kenny forward, “he had a heat stroke.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The medicine woman nodded, gesturing for them to follow her into the sickbay. Kyle raised a brow at the sight of the usually empty rows of beds now occupied by groaning men - he recognised from the usual crowd who hung out at the saloon - and doctor Butters and his assistant Dougie fretting over them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was a fight at the bar, the private rooms are all full,” Sharon explained kindly when she caught his eye. She had Kyle sit in a spare chair, passing him a mug of water. Kenny sat next to him, hesitatingly taking off Kyle’s hat and handing it back to the gunslinger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She asked Kenny a few questions, placed a palm on his forehead and neck, peering into his mouth. Sharon didn’t comment on his lack of clothes when she asked him to remove Kyle’s coat, but the gunslinger felt his hackles rise when the mumbling complaints of the men behind them stop briefly at the sight of a nude stranger in their town. Sharon must have noticed too, pursing her lips as she bundled Kenny back up. “Butters, would you be a dear and lend this young man some clothes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gosh I think I've got a spare set in the back,” Butters said as he wiped bloodied hands with a towel, greeting Kenny with a friendly smile. “Hi there! I’m Leopard but everyone calls me Butters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle listened to the doctor chat away as he and Kenny disappeared into another room. Sharon came to him to apply a cold balm on his sunburnt face and arms that smelt sharply of bitter herbs that had Kyle’s nose wrinkling. “Your friend’s alright, just a little dehydrated. I’d say that you have it worse, it was very kind of you to lend him your things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess,” the gunslinger said as he rubbed the back of his neck at her praise. “Is Stan back yet? I heard he went out with Wendy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not yet but I got a letter saying that they will be back tomorrow morning. I swear the boy thinks with his heart when he’s around the mayor, but I’ll let him know you were looking for him,” the mother promised. She then gave him a jar of the balm and instructions to apply it twice a day, before she excused herself to help Dougie with the other patients.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Broflovski,” one of the men whispered at him. He was tempted to ignore them. “Who the hell was that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he was wearing your hat,” another one hissed. Kyle didn’t blame him, hats were a personal thing and people didn’t just lend them willy nilly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he could tell them to piss off, Butters came back with Kenny dressed in a simple white shirt and wool britches. Kyle’s coat still hung from his frame. The doctor was giggling, his face in a lovely shade of pink. “No way that’s real!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It sure is,” Kenny insisted with a grin and a coy wink - looking more alive and well than ever - bumping elbows playfully with the good doctor, “I can show you if you want, but not right now of course.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gee that’s real sweet of ya, Ken. I’ll see what I can do, no promises though. A doc’s work is never done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a date,” Kenny stated and Butters hid a bashful smile behind a hand before the latter hurried away to his duty. The remaining blond slid over to Kyle. “Hello handsome.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello yourself,” Kyle grumbled back. An unfamiliar feeling flared in his chest at the other’s friendly display and he found himself crossing his arms. “I see you’re better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep, Butters gave me this honey mixture that lady made. I feel amazing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mrs Marsh did create a sickly sweet potion of herbs to help with exhaustion - he could see Kenny’s limbs jitter much like Tweek on a good day. He recalled how Stan used to drink before guard duty and always offered some, but he never had much of a sweet tooth for it. “Good for you,” he said and stood up, “we can head to the sheriff’s office then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They started out of the clinic when a hand shot out, snagging the end of Kyle’s coat and jerking Kenny backwards. The blond yelped, stumbling to a halt and Kyle twisted around, hands on his revolver.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oi! Stranger!,” the man slurred, yellowing teeth bared in a sneer as he yanked Kenny closer, “where ye from?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sigh, Kyle stepped forward and slapped the drunken man’s offending grip away. He grabbed Kenny’s wrist and continued their way. “None of your fucking business.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t take kindly to your types here,” one of them called after them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Calm down, Skeeter he ain’t hurtin’ nobody,” another man huffed tiredly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle ignored them all. He didn’t have enough patience to deal with intolerant drunks who asked unusually good questions when he could be getting Kenny settled with the sheriff, then going home and sleeping. He paid Sharon for himself and Kenny despite her objections. In the end they came to a compromise - they left with his water bag and canteens refilled, another balm in his pocket. The sun lingered on the horizon behind them when they started down the road, the reins in Kyle’s one hand while Kenny’s wrist in the other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So are you always like this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blinking, the gunslinger glanced at his companion - who was looking down at his still trapped limb. He let go immediately with a mumbled apology before his mind caught up with Kenny’s question. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Loud, sexy, brave, clingy,” Kenny listed casually, rubbing at the red mark around his wrist as he gave Kyle a teasing grin, “hopefully single because I don’t see a ring?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you flirt with everyone you meet?” Kyle countered blatantly, the irritation from the clinic replaced guilt at the sight of the other. He didn’t realise how tight his grip was and slowly added, “sorry about that. It’s been a long week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bottle floated in his vision, thick auburn liquid with berries and leaves sloshing inside. Kyle leaned back slightly and shot Kenny a look. “You said you weren’t a thief.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Butters gave me extras,” defended Kenny and waved the bottle temptingly, “and no, I only flirt with the cute ones. Like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolling his eyes, Kyle took the bottle with a mental ‘fuck it’ and downed the potion. He might as well, dealing with someone as lively as Kenny. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>----</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The sheriff’s office was dark when they arrived. Cartman probably went home early again, without Stan or Kyle hounding him to do work. Fortunately, Kyle had the spare key.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s this gonna work?” Kenny inquired as they stepped inside, curiously looking around while Kyle busied with the lights. “I kinda need to get going soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sit down, answer questions and we go on from there,” the gunslinger began, dragging a chair in front of his desk for Kenny and settling in his own across. He knew it would be better if he used the sheriff’s table but the idea of touching Cartman’s seat drew shudders. He knew how often the asshole farted into those poor cushions. “I write a report, file it and we go home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny slumped into his appointed seat and propped his chin in his hands, smiling up at the other. “Ask away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Full name?” Kyle started with the basics, pulling out a blank form to fill and a pen from his drawers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kenny McCormick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An unfamiliar surname. “Birthday, ethnicity, hometown, job?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, March. I’m not sure what people call us here but the tribe prefers Inuit. And I lived in the far north for most of my life,” Kenny answered and licked his lips, trying to come up with the right words, “I hunt for a living?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle raised a brow. He wasn’t sure which vague answer to tackle on first so he went for the main report. “Tell me what happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was passing through when those assholes jumped me, took my stuff and locked me up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you know that place was notorious for bandits and outlaws? You could have been killed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They told me it was the fastest way to South Park,” Kenny said simply with a shrug, uncaring of the threat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who did?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice folks I met in Denver, they let me stay with them for a while after I helped them with their sandworm problem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scratching of pen against paper paused. “The hell’s a sandworm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a worm that lives in sand,” Kenny snickered at Kyle’s pointed glare, “imagine it big enough to swallow a man and not in a kinky way, hundred rows of teeth and their juvenile stage is a mile long. At first it was only eating homeless people but then it started targeting their caravans.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I rather not. You fought this...thing dressed for winter? And with what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did it at night. It’s colder and easier for stealth. Had to use myself as bait though, it always gets a little messy but I got it to swallow some dynamite I borrowed from the townsfolk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle was starting to wonder if the heat scrambled the other’s head too much - he had heard of were-creatures and ghosts courtesy of Stan and Jimmy but never a ‘sandworm’. “What happened after you were taken captive? Was there anyone else trapped with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just me, I heard them talk about selling my gear to someone called Wolves,” Kenny managed to look a little sheepish, “it’s one thing to hunt monsters but I usually try not to hurt people so I got caught a few times. Then they kinda put me in a bad spot so I had to fight my way out. Half of them went down the ladder and blocked it, the other half y’know, stayed. Then I wandered around until I dropped and you found me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Wolves are a gang, like the Jackals - who were those guys you fought,” Kyle elaborated as he finished the report, “they specialise in weapons, robbing banks and horse coaches. The Jackals are slavers, they will likely put a bounty on your head for killing their own. The chances of you getting your stuff bad is little to none.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damnit,” cursed Kenny before he leaned back in his seat, “whatever. I’m pretty sure those guys who ran off took my gear with them. I’ll get it back later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Curiosity reared its ugly head and Kyle couldn’t help but ask. “What did you lose exactly?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My daggers, gun and some trinkets. I just need the first two.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re planning to get them back?” Kyle asked slowly, setting down the pen and pushing the report aside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep, right after this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re insane,” the gunslinger stated as he massaged the bridge of his nose. “Look Kenny, I didn’t save you just so you can go get yourself killed - again. That ladder leads to an abandoned gold mine, it’s too dangerous and you will get lost. I know you don’t have any funds but you can get a job here, replace your lost belongings and continue to wherever the hell you were going to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m already on a contract though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle looked up in confusion. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Testaburger. She told me about her town’s problem and I offered to handle it,” Kenny said blandly as though it was common knowledge, “what better way to deal with a monster than hiring a monster hunter?”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Me: I just wanted to write K2 and Inuit Kenny cuz I can't find any fics<br/>My brain: oh u wanna write 30k of red dead redemption, fallout new vegas and monster hunter?<br/>Me: no jus a oneshot<br/>Also me: haha plotbunny go brrrrr</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Two birds on a wire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I’m home,” Kyle announced loudly as he dragged his boots on the front carpet lest he tracked mud inside. A tug of his arm and Kenny came stumbling in with a pout, the handcuffs linking them jingled noisily. “And I brought a friend.”  </p><p>“Welcome home, bubbe, is it Leslie or Stan?” he heard his mom call out from the kitchen over the sound of dishes and went on without him answering, “ohh I hope it’s Leslie, she’s such a nice girl. You’re just in time for dinner, can you tell your father to come down?”</p><p>“Okay, just act like a kicked dog and my mom will buy it. As for my dad, just be polite and nod, he will probably talk about his work,” the gunslinger explained in a low voice, closing the door and unlocking the handcuffs. </p><p>“Y’know if you wanted me to meet your parents and explore your bondage kink, you could've just asked.”</p><p>“None of that flirting shit too,” hissed Kyle as his cheeks flushed at the implication, “and I don’t have a bondage kink. That was to keep you from running off and killing yourself.”</p><p>Kenny rolled his eyes at him, shrugging out of Kyle’s coat and handing it back to its rightful owner who hung it away. “I’m not gonna go ‘round throwing myself off cliffs dude. Just let me go grab my stuff and I’ll be out of your fluffy red hair.”</p><p>The gunslinger straightened up, unsure whether Kenny was insulting or complimenting him. “You don’t have money for a room in the saloon, Wendy hasn’t returned, Cartman will eat you alive tomorrow if I put you in jail and I won’t be able to sleep if I knowingly let you die. You’re gonna go say hi to my mom, have dinner with us and sleep where I can see you - then we go see the mayor tomorrow.”</p><p>“This is a really weird first date,” the blond commented offhandedly in lieu of an agreement.</p><p>Kyle sighed heavily and took Kenny by the arm, dragging him to the kitchen. “Mom, this is Kenny. He’s not from here and he lost his bag so I’m letting him stay with me for the night.”</p><p>“Hi madam.” A thankfully normal and polite start, much to Kyle’s relief.</p><p>“Hello there, I’m Sheila. It’s always nice to meet Kyle’s friends,” Sheila greeted kindly, cleaning her hands before shaking Kenny’s and glancing at her son. “It’s been so long since you last had a sleepover, sweetie. Would you like me to get out the spare bedroll?”</p><p>“It’s fine, I’ll do it while I get dad,” Kyle said and shot Kenny one last warning look - the blond wiggling his eyebrows in return - then turned to go upstairs.</p><p>Dinner began relatively normal with an additional head to the family - the usual hats off the table and updates on how their day went. The food was a simple kosher meal that Kenny didn’t have an opinion on and seemed to inhale as if he hadn’t eaten in days - which in a way, was entirely possible given that he had been held captive by bandits. Kyle counted up to ten minutes of pleasant smiles and small talk before Gerald broke it first.</p><p>“Where are you from, Kenny? Kyle said you weren’t from town.”</p><p>“Alaska,” the blond answered without hesitation, chirping a thanks when Sheila refilled his bowl with a second helping, “Inuit tribe.”</p><p>“Ohh that’s pretty far from here,” Sheila commented thoughtfully, “what’s it like there?”</p><p>Kyle glared at the other for his previous vague answer of ‘far north’ but Kenny was apparently well-versed in the art of ignoring people as he smiled at Gerald. “Freezing, snow most of the year. You can’t feel your nose or fingers half the time. The tundra doesn’t have forest for game or enough grass to rear herd-beast, so we hunt things like fish and seals. Sometimes whales.”</p><p>“If you don’t mind me asking, is it true that you guys eat things raw?" Gerald lowered his fork and leaned in slightly. "As in the moment you kill it, you dig in.”</p><p>“Gerald, you can’t just ask people things like that!” Sheila exclaimed and slapped her husband on the arm, before turning to Kenny with an apologetic smile, “please ignore him, he’s a curious soul.”</p><p>Gerald ducked away from her. “Why not? It’s a culture thing, right?” </p><p>“It’s okay, and yeah I guess it is - it’s really cold and you spend so much energy in a hunt, you have to eat immediately to survive. It sounds pretty messed up huh?” Kenny laughed softly, grinning behind his bowl.</p><p>“It’s not,” Kyle found himself piping up, “it makes sense in a desperate situation like that to recover what you lost and the meat would be fresh enough to eat if your diet adapted to consume it safely. Plus depending on the animal, like if it were a mammal it would be warm and help keep up your body temperature.”</p><p>His parents glanced at each other, unsure on how to reply while Kyle had to tear his gaze away from Kenny’s delighted smile, quickly adding, “I’m just saying.”</p><p>“So how did you meet Kyle?” Sheila changed the subject, although not to a safe topic.</p><p>“Work,” Kyle bit out at the same time as Kenny's “he saved me.”</p><p>“Let your friend talk for himself, bubbe.”</p><p>“He,” Kenny glanced over at the other for a heartbeat then back at Sheila, “saved me from work. I got hurt real bad and he helped me out. Your son’s a hero, Mrs Broflovski.”</p><p>“Aw I know he is,” agreed Sheila with a pleased coo, leaning over to ruffle Kyle’s hair, “I’m glad you two are okay.”</p><p>The conversation steered to calmer waters, familiar banter between his parents. Kenny seemed to slip in their talks easily with bright eyes and laughter. Kyle escaped the table with the excuse of clearing his dishes, only to be shooed out by his mother with an order: “go be a good host to Kenny, sweetie.” </p><p>Being a host meant bringing Kenny to his room, showing him the bedroll beside his own bed then moving him to the bathroom - something that only a few households could afford. Cartman liked to come over as an unwelcome guest to soak in the bathtub for hours and abuse his toilet before leaving without a thanks. “Leave your clothes by the door. There’s a new towel inside and you can use these soaps,” Kyle paused for a moment, recalling how Stan’s tribe mostly washed in rivers but used a mix of sand and herbs instead of soap, “you do know how to use them right?”</p><p>“You gonna bathe me?” Kenny challenged with a smirk.</p><p>Kyle narrowed his eyes and rolled up his sleeves, he was a host and he was going to be the best even if it meant showering someone. “Strip.”</p><p>Without looking away, the blond shamelessly tugged off his shirt with one hand and shimmered his borrowed pants. Still no underwear. He then stepped towards Kyle who was suddenly frozen in the spot. Wearing a smile, Kenny leaned in and purred sensually into his ear, “I was joking, I know how to use a shower.”</p><p>The gunslinger stared at him, torn between punching the other or shoving him to the wall and kissing or maybe both by punching him with lips against his. He was not insecure, he knew what he liked and much to his slowly growing horror - a pretty blond tease was one of that list. It should be noted that said pretty blond tease was also climbing the ‘Things That Will Probably Kill Me Unless I Kill It First’ list too. Kyle ended doing neither, ducking away to cover his ear instead. “Dude!”</p><p>Kenny’s laughter chased him after him when he slammed the door shut and stormed away. Stupid pretty blond assholes, Kyle thought vermenly as he angrily changed into his nightclothes to wash their soiled ones in the basin his mom left downstairs, he was going to kill him.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Barking drew Kyle from sleep, a faint dream of a living shadow with violet eyes standing upon a mountain of bones lingering at the back of his head as he groaned into his pillow. “Shut your damn dog up, Stan.”</p><p>“It’s just doing its job as a tracker,” a voice assured him, followed by a gentle brush through Kyle’s hair. “This ‘Stan’ taught it well.”</p><p>The redhead allowed it, even shifting to lean into the touch. It had been so long since someone other than his mother had stroked his hair like that, and the hand was weird - callus enough to tickle his scalp yet soft enough to not hurt. The hand scratched his head lightly, dragging a content sigh from Kyle before he remembered oh yeah he forced some guy to have a sleepover last night - eyes slowly opening and meeting Kenny’s vivid blue.</p><p>“Hi,” Kenny greeted. It was early, maybe nine or so and enough sunlight seeping through the window blinds for Kyle to see the blond covering his head with his blanket like a hood - leaving only his face visible.</p><p>Kyle stared at him unblinkingly, ignoring the brief sense of loss when the hand left his hair. “...Hi.”</p><p>“I thought of leaving but I felt bad so I waited until you woke up,” Kenny explained with a glance at the window, the sharp barking still going on in the background.</p><p>“That’s Sparky, my friend’s dog,” Kyle supplied as he sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes, “and where were you planning to go?”</p><p>“Just downstairs to calm the dog down. I don’t think your parents would like waking up to a pupper at Ass ‘O Clock in the morning.”</p><p>A loud bang had them both jumping, Kyle recognised it as hooves against wood. Kyle scrambled out of bed, suddenly wide awake. “Shit, that’s Kite. He fucking hates mornings and will kick at anything that wakes him up.”</p><p>“I’ll handle it,” Kenny told him before pushing his window open and jumping out - blanket and all.</p><p>“Fuck,” hissed Kyle as he snatched up his gun hostels and hurried downstairs. He expected to see a dumbass cradling his broken ankle or even a broken neck but instead found Kenny standing in his yard holding his blanket above the dew-covered grass. Sparky was sniffing circles around him, darting and tripping on the duvet. “Don’t jump out of windows like that! Are you actively trying to kill yourself?”</p><p>“Death has no proper schedule, and he doesn’t really ask when you’re free.”</p><p>Kyle scowled, walking past the blond to check on Kite - who luckily had stopped trying to kick down his barn’s door. Galloping hooves in the distance drew him away to see Stan near the Broflovski property and dismount his horse. “Kyle, that you?”</p><p>“Dude where the hell have you been? The town’s on edge on the cattle thing and Wendy’s nowhere to be found,” Kyle demanded. Sparky had retreated to sit by Stan’s heel while the warrior eyed Kenny critically. The blond merely smiled at him.</p><p>Stan ignored him, pushing his friend behind him instead while a hand rested on his hatchet's handle. “Kenneth McCormick? Wendy Testaburger’s old work friend?”</p><p>“Yep.”</p><p>“What the fuck is going on?” Kyle whispered and elbowed Stan in the ribs, but his friend didn’t reply - shoulders relaxing at Kenny’s simple answer.</p><p>“I’m Stan of Many Moons, Wendy’s partner. We’ve been looking everywhere for you man, we found your stuff in the Jackal’s hideout and thought you died or something.”</p><p>“Or something, Kyle found me first,” Kenny answered gleefully as Stan welcomed him with a grin and a handshake, “sorry for the trouble.”</p><p>“You can tell Wends that. They’re at the office to stock up but then Sparky here suddenly took off, so yeah. I’ll take you to them,” Stan offered and started heading back to his horse, then turned to Kyle, “you should come too so she can explain what’s going on.”</p><p>Kyle, who was <em> this </em>close to snapping, shot his best friend a look of promised pain in the near future. “I am going up to get ready and when I come down, you two better still be here. You will explain what the fuck’s going on,” he growled as he jabbed a finger into Stan’s chest, then whirled around to Kenny, “and you will refrain from any weird comments. Am I clear?”</p><p>“Yes sir,” the two replied in union.</p><p>They watched the gunslinger walk over to the clothesline at the side of the house to retrieve the drying clothes swaying in the wind. Without a word, Kyle traded Kenny’s blanket for his now clean clothes and then headed back into the house. Stan gave the blond an awkward smile and reason: “Kyle hates being kept in the dark.”</p><p>“It’s cool. I think his anger’s kinda hot.”</p><p>Stan heaved a sigh. “I think you’re the only one.” </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>The ride to the mayor’s office was short and Stan’s explanation was confusing. Kyle regretted asking, knowing how his friend tended to ramble while Kenny’s blessed silence filled with knowing half-smiles drove Kyle crazy. Clyde let them in without a word, shooting Kenny a weird look as the blond pulled up his hood and zipped up his parka before going in.</p><p>“You’re back, I was about to send Clyde after you,” Wendy breathed when she saw Stan enter, then froze when she spotted his companions, her eyes growing wide. “Kyle and...Kenny?!” </p><p>Stan and Kyle were suddenly shoved aside as Kenny rushed forward towards Wendy, his voice muffled by the fur of his hood. Kyle could barely make out his voice. “Shoot me.” </p><p>“The hell?” Stan yelped as he fumbled with his hatchet, while Kyle hesitantly drew his revolvers. They could see Wendy pulling a gun that was strapped on her back - a musket with a flared muzzle covered in odd bulbs and wires - and leveling it at Kenny’s chest. He was too close to her for Kyle to take the shot, Stan already dashing forward with his hatchet raised. </p><p>“Goddamnit,” Wendy cursed and pulled the trigger. Kenny’s body snapped back at the blast and collapsed onto the floor like a ragdoll. </p><p>Kyle inhaled sharply and his body moved, sliding next to Kenny’s fallen form and pressing his hands on the blond’s chest for a wound. Except there wasn’t any, just a layer of ice covered Kenny’s parka and on the carpet. Under his hands, Kenny heaved a happy sigh and curled up in the frost - like a cat that had found its favourite sunning rock. What the fuck? </p><p>“What the actual fuck?” Stan echoed Kyle’s question out loud, the warrior stumbling over to his love’s side and dropping his hatchet.</p><p>Wendy looked more annoyed than concern over the fact that she had shot someone, setting her gun down to rub at her temples. “He’s fine. Kenny does this if the weather's too warm, says he likes the chill - when he shouldn’t, since he always complains about it whenever we go somewhere with snow.”</p><p>“It’s stockholm syndrome, Wends. Father Winter was all I had for like, years and this place is toasty as fuck,” Kenny answered from the floor, scooping some of the chipped ice to pour into his hood. "You're an ice sniper and I'm a hot guy."</p><p>“Are you implying that I’m enabling your love-hate relationship with the cold?” Wendy asked slowly with a glare.</p><p>Kenny didn’t answer, rolling away to be facedown on the slowly melting ice.</p><p>Wendy shot him again, ice climbing Kenny’s back and legs and turned to the other men. “Good morning, boys. Have a seat. Let me talk with no interruptions, and you can ask your questions later.”</p><p>Kyle and Stan slowly sat down in the chairs the mayor usually had for visiting guests, knowing better than to argue when Wendy was in her moods. Kenny remained on the floor.</p><p>“Before South Park I used to,” Wendy paused briefly and glanced down at Kenny, who wiggled close enough to give her an encouraging pat on the knee before continuing, “we used to be part of an organisation that focused on eliminating threats.”</p><p>“Wait, I thought you were a pirate for a year?"</p><p>Wendy shushed him with another shot. "Before that, we were in a small group that handled contracts to secure, contain and protect others."</p><p>"Man, you make it sound so fancy,” Kenny commented bitterly from below, “all they did was give us a dumb card, point in a direction and said go wild.”</p><p>Wendy frowned slightly, crossing her arms. “It was for a good cause. Kenneth, myself, Bebe and a girl named Red - “</p><p>“Wait, you mean Bebe from the saloon?” Stan cut in with a shocked look, before grinning nervously at his girlfriend’s glare.</p><p>“Yes, Stanley. That Bebe.” The mayor grounded out and Stan lowered slightly in his seat, “we worked together for a few years until we disbanded. Bebe and I moved here, Red and Ken went off on their own. As you know, there’s a cattle killer on the loose for the past two weeks. After some personal investigations, I noticed that there was something unnatural about it and contacted Ken, who had been working as a hunter of these kinds of things. I was hoping he had come across such a thing but then this jerk here - who replied to me with a ‘sure, I’ll be there in three days. Currently hunting Bigfoot.’ and then radio silence for two whole weeks.”</p><p>“Bigfoot is surprisingly stealthy for someone with such big feet.”</p><p>“And a few days ago, I got a signal on my old communicator that you were right outside town. I take my boyfriend who’s the town’s best tracker and his sister who has the town’s best eagle-eyes <em> and </em>I take your fucking brother was pissed we interrupted their honeymoon - only to find a bunch of gang members playing with your gear,” Wendy snarled as she kicked Kenny in the ribs lightly, gaining an dull ‘ow’ from the blond. “Do you have any idea how worried I was?”</p><p>“Wait, you took Kev with you?” Kenny asked instead and grunted when the mayor kicked him again, “ow geez, what do you want me to say? I’m sorry for scaring you, it was really shitty of me? I had to help drag a kid out from a scorch-pion’s pincers because his mother was too much of a bitch to not keep him indoors and that delayed me? I got kidnapped by a bunch of bandits, got lost and had a heat stroke so I just laid there waiting to die?”</p><p>“No, yes. To all of them!” Wendy hissed, chest heaving and eyes flashing with rage as she slammed a fist on the table. “We care for you, you - you stupid suicidal dummy!”</p><p>“Wrong, I'm a suicidal <em> surviving </em>dummy,” Kenny quipped, ice cracking away as he stood up. He pulled her into a half hug, ignoring her annoyed grunt. “I’ll stay in town a while longer after solving your cow killer ‘kay? We can hang out like old times, pretend that Red’s busy doing her makeup or something.”</p><p>The mayor didn’t reply immediately, hiding her face in Kenny’s parka as she gripped the Inuit tightly around the waist. “She does take hours.”</p><p>“Yep, though she always makes up for it with killer eyeliner. I still haven’t mastered that shit.”</p><p>“I did. I’ll teach you later.” Wendy pushed him off after a few minutes, looking away to swiftly pad a handkerchief under her eyes before facing her other guests - composted with no signs of her previous distress. “You may ask your questions.” </p><p>“What’s a scorch-pion?” Stan asked first before Kyle could, the former wincing when the redhead’s elbow dug into his side.</p><p>“A big scorpion that sets itself on fire when it’s at half-health,” Kenny replied as he preached on the corner of Wendy’s desk, “it was wandering around Nevada and I never actually killed it. You’ll know it’s around when you hear pincers clicking under your feet.”</p><p>“Dude, how big are we talking? Did you try pelting it with cinnamon?”</p><p>“Think horse size big. And where am I gonna get enough cinnamon sticks?”</p><p>While Kenny and Stan discussed the weaknesses of normal scorpions and those of large sizes, Kyle turned to look Wendy in the eye. “This isn’t some elaborate joke, right?”</p><p>“We live in South Park. There were Visitors probing people last month and a homeless invasion the month before that. Do you really think giant scorch-pions don’t exist?”</p><p>“Good point,” Kyle begrudgingly agreed and nodded to the other two. “So now what?”</p><p>“Well, first Kenny has to deal with Bebe - luckily for him, Kevin already went back to Denver with Shelly but he expects him to visit soon. I’m going to check up with paperwork and Stan should really go home and let his family know he’s not dead,” Wendy listed out with a pointed look at her love, nodding to the door. “Out you go.”</p><p>“See you later, dear.” The warrior pressed a quick kiss to her cheek - face turning a little green but managed not to puke. Kyle gave him a clap on the back as he left.</p><p>Wendy gave the gunslinger a sympathetic smile. “You can head back to work if you want, Kyle. I don’t want to drag you into this mess, I know how Cartman pushes most of the work onto your plate.”</p><p>“Actually if it’s okay, I want him on the team,” Kenny spoke up from the desk, hands going through Wendy’s drawer like a curious child until she smacked them away, “we could always use a medic and I’m sure he’s a great shot - even though I haven’t actually seen him fire."</p><p>"Kyle's a medic?"</p><p>"He saved me from dying, close enough. Plus, having a deputy around would get us access into certain places right?”</p><p>“I can write you permission as the mayor, you know.”</p><p>“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”</p><p>She rolled her eyes at the blond but nodded.“It’s your call, Kyle.”</p><p>Kyle thought about it briefly. He didn’t really have to, cleaning Cartman’s mess was easily outbid by the choice of monster hunting and the oddly warming fact that Kenny wanted him there. Most of his workload was on solving the cattle killer anyway - and it would be amazing to see the look on Cartman’s face when he saw that Kyle won the bet. “I’m in.”</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Wendy had waited until Stan - who brought packed lunches for everyone - and Kenny - who didn’t bring anything but a handprint on his cheek and a pout - returned to discuss the plan.</p><p>“The attacks are here, here and here,” Stan pointed out with red circles on the map of South Park, “the first attacks were on the McMurphys who had the largest herd and latest on farmer Denkins, who also had the first sighting with multiple witnesses.”</p><p>“You might want to add that last night, Denkins lost four of his cows and two bulls,” Wendy said as she went through the stakes of paper that had grown over her leave, “I got word that he was on nightwatch with several others, heard a noise and ran into the house. When they came back, they were gone. No footprints or struggles.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, Wendy,” Kyle began with a glance at Kenny, who was hovering at a table with his gear laid out - twin off-white blades that looked like the tusk of some creature, a slender contraption that was a cross between a shotgun and a handheld canon and a bag of slim metal robs with sharp edges and spikes. Harpoons, he realised. Kenny was wielding a literally harpoon gun. “I got distracted and didn’t turn up for the next night. I should have at least arranged for someone to take over.”</p><p>“It’s not your fault, I was the one who took longer than expected,” Wendy swiftly shut down his apologies and glanced up at Kenny, “if you’re done with your gear, can I get some insight on this?”</p><p>“You said there were witnesses. Got a sketch?” Kenny asked without looking away from adjusting his gun.</p><p>Wendy pushed a file towards them and Kyle took it, flipping it open. It was a messy drawing of a dark blob, it got the size and structure of heavyset shoulders but none of the details. “It’s missing the ears, one was small and round like a bear’s and the other was like a pig’s.” </p><p>Wordlessly, the mayor passed him a pencil to add that on, along with the tattled fur and red eyes. A touch on his shoulder had Kyle jerking lightly, looking to his right and accidentally smushing his cheek against Kenny’s who had decided to look over his shoulder instead of stand next to him like a normal human being. “Can you not?”</p><p>“Not what?” the Inuit asked innocently, blinking his big blue eyes at Kyle. He caught the elbow aimed at his gut without breaking his gaze, “I’m looking at the evidence like Wendy asked.”</p><p>“Stop bullying my deputy, Ken.”</p><p>Kenny stuck out his tongue at Wendy before ducking away, stealing the file with him. He eyed the drawing and then at the map with a calculative glint. “It’s demonic, too solid to be a ghost and likely growing out of control.”</p><p>He walked over to Stan’s map, trailing a finger along the circled farms. “The summoner sends it after the next best thing that isn’t humans to avoid a witch-hunt - cows but then starts spreading out to sheep or horses because it needs more to sustain itself the longer it is here. It has witnesses when it got careless, so you probably have days before it starts targeting people. Adults are good for hunger while children and babies are the best for it to grow stronger. Pregnant women are a bonus package.”</p><p>“Alright, how do we kill it?” Stan asked with a grimace at the Inuit’s knowledge.</p><p>“I dunno. Usually I just handle the witch but I’ve a friend in Denver who knows this occult stuff. We should gather intel then go to her. Anyone want revenge lately?”</p><p>The other three shared a look, before Wendy started rubbing her temples. “That’s like, half the town."</p><p>"Who's the other half?"</p><p>"Cartman," Kyle huffed, "but not because he wants revenge, it's just so he can fuck with people's minds."</p><p>"Uh, okay. How 'bout those who recently did super well in their business?" After a moment of silence, Kenny gave a halfhearted shrug and suggested, “just make a list of who you think is most likely to summon a diabolical creature to do their bidding. I’ll get started tonight.”</p><p>“Honestly, I rather you do it tomorrow,” Wendy stated firmly, “the people won’t react well to seeing you sneaking around at night, even with the deputy's presence. Anyone able to use their thumbs is armed with a gun.”</p><p>“Even kids?”</p><p>“They get junior guns.”</p><p>Kenny stared at her in awe. Stan laughed and started telling him the customs of cowboys, rednecks and their love for firearms.</p><p>Wendy set her papers down and stood up. “Kyle, may I speak with you for a moment?”</p><p>Said redhead glanced at the others, Kenny was holding out his daggers to Stan who eyed them with interest, saying something about a walrus while the warrior offered his hatchets in turn. “Sure.”</p><p>The mayor led him out of the office into a smaller room down the hall, a waiting room of sorts to entertain esteemed guests - which Wendy almost never used, preferring her meetings and work to be quick and efficient. She settled on one of the couches, hands folded neatly in her lap but fingers toyed with the twine ring Stan had given her last year - a nervous tick Kyle only saw her do hidden behind heavy curtains of speeches and events.</p><p>“What do you think of Kenny?”</p><p>“W-what?” Kyle sputtered, eyes wide.</p><p>“What do you see in him as a person? I have no intention of telling him, I just want to hear your opinion.”</p><p>“I think he’s an idiot,” Kyle said slowly after filtering his thoughts in a way that was hopefully not embarrassing or demeaning of Kenny, “a confident, flirty idiot who has no regard for his own safety or sense of personal space but I think he means well, based on what he said about helping people with their monster problems. He seems like the kind to throw himself into them?”</p><p>A little demeaning, but it was true.</p><p>A smile fluttered on Wendy’s lips as she chuckles softly, “yeah, that sounds like him. Ken’s always been too selfless when it comes to people he cared for - I’ll admit that I was a little surprised when he answered my call, Red sure didn’t,” her smile fell away slightly into a more solemn expression, “that said, I have a new job for you.”</p><p>Kyle nodded for her to continue.</p><p>“I’m putting you as Ken’s partner for the duration of this hunt. Your duties as deputy will be taken care of. I want you to accompany him for investigations and ensure that he returns to town safely.”</p><p>He grimaced. “You basically want me to babysit him.”</p><p>Wendy didn’t deny it. “It’s protocol regardless of the target for a team of fours, then split into two if the situation calls for but never alone. I’ll be joining you with Stan but I need someone to be with Ken,” she accidentally tugged the ring off in her twisting, “take it like an observer role - you don’t have to assist, just keep an eye on him. Sometimes the hunt goes wrong and he might ask you to run while he fights it off and he knows when a battle’s not worth it so when that happens I want you to listen - but promise me that you <em> will </em>go back for him.” </p><p>“Of course I would,” Kyle said strongly, the idea of abandoning someone was ridiculous and he couldn’t help but feel offended that Wendy thought he would, “I don’t see what’s the big deal.”</p><p>“Promise me then.”</p><p>“Fine,” he bit out, then took a deep breath to calm himself - Wendy was probably just worried for her old friend, her concern was understandable. “I promise to bring him back even if I have to drag him kicking and screaming.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Wendy sighed as her shoulders sagged, making her look small and tired. “A fair warning, Ken might act a little strange when you find him but he won’t hurt you. Talk to him for a few minutes, doesn’t matter the topic until he’s ready to come back.”</p><p>Easy enough, but something bugged him. “Why me?”</p><p>“Well, I would do it myself but I don’t want to deal with a scandal where people think their mayor is two-timing Stan.”</p><p>“So you rather have the deputy take the fall?” Kyle snorted at her reasoning.</p><p>“You’re single, he likes you and he told me you already took him home to see your parents,” Wendy said, grinning at Kyle’s blush, “it’s more of a tumble than a fall really.”</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Kyle and Stan had retired home early while Kenny hung back to speak with Wendy. The first task from Wendy to them was to explore the town, Kyle playing tour guide and Kenny as the people watcher with a promise to meet up in the morning outside the saloon where Kenny was supposed to room with Bebe.</p><p>The gunslinger left his house ten minutes early, always one for punctuality. Yet he found a brown blob by the door of Kite’s pen, murmuring soft nothings and stroking the stallion’s head.</p><p>Carefully, Kyle snuck up to him and leaned against the entrance of the pen. “I’m starting to think you like my horse more than me.”</p><p>He bit back a laugh when Kenny jerked away with a startled cry - jumping so hard that his hood fell down. The blond narrowed his eyes at him, a hand against his probably racing heart and grounded out, “tryin’ to give me a heart attack, asshole?”</p><p>“That was for that night in the bathroom,” Kyle brushed him off but caught a flash of off-white bone behind the other, sharp eyes noting the angle Kenny stood to hide the dagger he had drawn as he secretly tucked it away into his praka. He did feel a little bad for scaring Kenny so hard that he felt the need to defend himself - but at the same time the sight of him taken off guard was fascinating.</p><p>“You’re right, I <em> do </em>like Kite better.”</p><p>“Sorry, I’ll make it up to you. Get whatever you want from the store,” promised Kyle as he stepped away and nodded to the road towards town - just a short walk away, “that’s our first stop.”</p><p>Kenny made a disgruntled noise, patting Kite one last time before following him.</p><p>It was a nice day, thick clouds covering the worst of the sun so Kyle was not too worried of Kenny overheating in those thick clothes. He glanced at his companion, watching the annoyance melt away into a content expression and was silently thankful that the blond didn’t pull his hood back up. “How did you get here anyway? It’s kind of far, the saloon from here I mean.”</p><p>“I walked, Bebe kicked me out early for snoring and I’m good with directions so I found my way here. For your horse. Who at least doesn’t sneak up on me.”</p><p>“You walked?” The idea was unheard of, since everyone had mounts. “What kind of transport do they use in Alaska, if you don’t have horses?”</p><p>“We used our legs, snowshoes for most days and ice skates across lakes. There are some horse breeds meant for snow but most tribes have sled dogs, about five or six,” Kenny gave him a side look, before turning back to focus on the path, “had one - a malamute, raised him from a pup. He was more of a guard dog and friend than sled puller.”</p><p>“What was his name?” Kyle asked slowly, noting the other’s use of past tense.</p><p>“Mysterion. Myst for short, which was funny ‘cause his fur was fluffy like a cloud but black.”</p><p>Kyle nodded. He never had a pet, he was fond of Kite but his father taught him that horses and dogs were tools and his mother had allergies. Faintly, he remembered how he and Ike had promised to get a dog and cat when they were older and living away from their parents. The memory stung, so he choked out a reply before regret to smother his voice. “He sounds like a great dog.”</p><p>“The best.” If Kenny noticed the tightness of his tone, he didn’t comment.</p><p>The general store was one of the better parts of town, walls that were once a dark green now bleached a shade pale by the sun. Inside was blissfully cool, fans swinging and Kyle heard Kenny sigh in relief. Sheila was behind the counter, going through the cashier and looked up at the chiming bell. “Bubbe? Did you need something? Oh and you brought your friend, hello Kenny.”</p><p>“Hi Mrs Broflovski!”</p><p>“Go ahead and pick out something you like,” Kyle told the blonde, before heading over to the counter.</p><p>“Did it arrive yet?” He asked his mother vaguely, glancing at Kenny who was curiously inspecting the products that ranged from food provisions to firearms - although their collection was much smaller compared to Stan’s uncle Jimbo’s.</p><p>Sheila smiled at him, retrieving a parcel from under the table. “That Donovan boy dropped it here earlier. I’m so proud of you, sweetie, you’re becoming such a gentleman just like your father.”</p><p>“Thanks ma,” Kyle answered automatically, grabbing the parcel and ducking his head. He turned back to Kenny, spotting messy golden hair behind the back shelves that ducked away from sight and followed. “Found anything good?”</p><p>He was not sure whether to be surprised or unamused that Kenny had honed into the store's pride and joy: the only working freezer that wasn’t a hole dug into the ground. Kenny had half his body inside the machine, digging around the ice and other goods. A muffled “dude you guys have ice cream?!” came from within.</p><p>Sighing, Kyle set the parcel down and grabbed Kenny by the hips, tugging at the wiggling idiot who tried to squirm back in with a whine. “You’re going to get us kicked out, my mom hates people who dive in her freezer.”</p><p>“It’s cold,” Kenny mumbled back, twisting away from him.</p><p>“I’ll let you have two ice creams if you come out.”</p><p>The Inuit seemed to consider the offer before slipping out of the freezer and from Kyle’s hold. In his hand, he held two popsicles of white and brown.</p><p>“Vanilla and chocolate? Good choice,” Kyle remarked as he took them from Kenny, nudging the parcel to him with a foot, “go to the backroom and open this while I’ll pay.”</p><p>He only took three steps when he heard the tearing of paper and Kenny gasping behind him. “Aww, Kyle...you didn’t have to.”</p><p>“It’s for the sake of the investigation,” the gunslinger quickened his pace away, “nobody will trust some stranger dressed like a teddy bear.”</p><p>Said teddy bear wrapped his arms around Kye’s waist in a quick hug, stopping Kyle in his tracks. Kenny squeezed once then released him and darted into the backroom. </p><p>He refused to acknowledge his burning face and hammering heart as he paid for the icy treats and entertained his mom’s inquiries of his health and work, ignoring her knowing smile when Kenny stepped out of the backroom dressed in pale browns and white and riding boot like how a respectable cowboy would. The Inuit kept his praka tied loosely around his waist, the only splashes of colour were the orange bandana around his neck. He looked good - or at least that was what Kyle’s brain thought, the pretty blond idiot was climbing the ranks of the list of Things Kyle Broflovski Liked. The only thing missing was a hat to complete the local cowboy image.</p><p>“I’d ask how you got my measurements but I’m not sure if I wanna know,” Kenny said cheekily when they left the store, waving goodbye to Sheila. Like a heathen, the blond put both popsicles in his mouth at the same time.</p><p>Kyle rolled his eyes and shoved the popsicles at Kenny. “I didn’t do anything creepy like measure you in your sleep. I took them from your dirty clothes while you bathed.”</p><p>“Sure, but how did you get my shoe size then?”</p><p>The gunslinger nearly tripped over his own feet. Shit, Kenny did have a point. “Look, Mr Donovan did most of the work and those were my old boots. You looked small enough to fit them and - ”</p><p>Kenny’s laughter caused him to trail off, glaring at the blond who hunched over in giggles. “Oh my Broflovski,” he purred after catching his breath, “buying me sweets and dressing me up? You oughta be careful, I might fall for you.“</p><p>“I thought you already did.”</p><p>“Huh.” The Inuit froze, expression blanking as he straightened up. “Did I?” </p><p>“What do you mean did I?” Kyle couldn’t help but ask, frowning at the other’s sudden change in mood. </p><p>“Nothing, let’s keep going.” Kenny said impassively. He wasn’t rude or anything, just painfully neutral and it grinded Kyle’s gears for some reason. </p><p>They walked around town, Kyle pointed out certain buildings that may have been of interest while Kenny listened, his attention on the people they passed by. They stopped briefly at the Donovan’s shoe shop that doubled as a tailor - Clyde’s father picked up his late wife’s clothing business a year ago, letting Kenny pick out a simple dark brown hat. Kyle thought of offering to buy him a ribbon or sash of some colour to add but hesitated at the blond’s silence. It was at the saloon when Kenny came to life, snapping out from his stupor at the sight of a beautiful blond woman in a deep red corset and skirt draped over the bar counter chatting up Clyde. “Bebe!”</p><p>“Kenny!” She squealed as she pulled away from Clyde, ignoring the guard to meet Kenny in a tight hug that looked painful, “it’s so good to see you.”</p><p>“If it was that good, you wouldn’t have kicked me out last night.”</p><p>“I can’t help it, my immunity to your sleeping habits died out five years ago,” the saloon owner reasoned before she led Kenny by the hand towards Clyde, “allow me to introduce you to my main squeeze since you came over too late yesterday.”</p><p>Kyle watched the Inuit get dragged around the saloon to meet Bebe’s usual crowd as he settled in an empty seat at the corner of the main bar. A clear of a throat from the counter had him shifting his gaze to Craig, wearing an unamused look. “What’s your order?”</p><p>“Isn’t this Tweek’s job?” Kyle could see the said bartender, who was hiding at the other side of the bar watching Kyle cautiously. He didn’t exactly blame Tweek’s fear of authority, everyone in town knew Tweek was a former outlaw but allowed him to live in town after he turned in his guns - that and him falling in love with Craig, the stoic traveler he brought along was the gay relationship South Park wanted for diversity. Cartman still gave Tweek shit though, finding all kinds of reasons to lock him in jail as a joke until either Wendy or Kyle came to release them. Still, Kyle had hoped that people knew the deputy was not in the same as the sheriff.</p><p>“He couldn’t stand your longing stare at your boyfriend getting stolen by Bebe.”</p><p>“He’s not my boyfriend.”</p><p>Craig raised a brow. “Clyde told me how you ordered clothes just for him. Sounds like a boyfriend thing to do.”</p><p>Fuck. “He only had one pair and he would have gone around naked if I didn’t. I did the town a service.”</p><p>“Sure,” Craig huffed and shot Kyle a rare smirk that toed the line of mocking, “keep telling yourself that, Broflovski.”</p><p>“If I order, will you leave me alone?” A shrug from the bartender was better than an outright no. “Scotch on the rocks.”</p><p>Craig muttered something along the lines of ‘basic bitch’ and flipped him the bird, but turned away to make the drink. Kyle returned to Kenny-watching, noting how natural Bebe and Kenny worked together - Kenny joking with a group while Bebe smoothed any feathers that might have been ruffled then moving to the next crowd. It left the people talking of a friendly good-natured stranger in town, a familiar beauty beside coaxing them into thinking the equally pretty newcomer was part of the herd. It worked well, evident on Clyde who had stiffened up with underlying aggression at seeing his partner with another man - now settled down with flowery stories of the two being close co-workers.</p><p>Finally, Bebe led Kenny to the bar. Kyle could hear them giggling as he nursed his drink.</p><p>“Drinks on me, Ken. I would say it’s on the house, since I own the place.”</p><p>“Maybe <em> you </em>should get some for yourself. Aren't you thirsty from talking so much?”</p><p>“Nah, this is just a warm up for tonight,” the two snickered before Bebe waved over Tweek, “hey Tweek, Craig.  This is my bestie I mentioned before, Kenny. Say hi.”</p><p>“Hi,” the two echoed. Craig went back to drying glasses while Tweek fumbled with his apron, until Craig set down his items and rested a hand on the blond’s back. Tweek froze, then relaxed and gave the dark-haired man a grateful smile as they traded post - Craig walking over to serve Bebe instead.</p><p>“Get us some whiskey, Craig or Tweek’s coffee. Or both - <em> whisffee </em>,” Bebe told him, leaning against the counter and yelped when Kenny pushed her aside slightly.</p><p>“Just water’s fine, she’s a menace when drunk and I’ve something to do after this.”</p><p>Bebe made eye contact with Kyle over the counter. “Is that something sitting over there, looking all sad?”</p><p>“Shuddap Beb,” Kenny hissed and elbowed the woman, turned back to address Craig who was returning with their requested water. He paused, eyeing the unamused man closer than before and then blinked. “Oh, Inca. Haven’t seen your kind in a while.”</p><p>“W-w-whatdidyousay?” stammered Tweek when he dropped the glasses he had been drying for his boyfriend, sending glass shards and water everywhere. Kyle watched him reach to his hip for a pistol that was no longer there. </p><p>Craig on the other hand simply set the drinks down, eyes widening slightly but otherwise showed no reaction. “Could say the same, eskimo. What’re you doing so far south?”</p><p>“Hunting.”</p><p>Kyle was too far to hear what Craig said next but he waved Tweek’s worries away, leading the twitchy blond to reluctantly step away to give them some space. Bebe herself did the same, moving away from Kenny to sit next to Kyle and shooting him a grin. “Sup loverboy.”</p><p>“I’m neither a lover nor a boy,” Kyle gritted out, watching critically at the whispers between the two. “What are they talking about?”</p><p>Bebe shrugged, propping her elbow on the table and resting her cheek in hand. “Who knows? Monster hunting is apparently real different and distinct from what Ken and I used to do.”</p><p>“What do you mean?” He remembered Wendy’s explanation, but then again it wasn’t very specific. “The mayor said you were a group who ‘eliminated threats’, I assumed that it was beasts.”</p><p>“Oh Wendy,” she sighed melodramatically, before an ugly scowl marred her pretty face. “Lemme guess: she made it sound like we were doing something great, didn’t she?”</p><p>“Well - “</p><p>“I guess it was in a way. Work that people were too afraid to do themselves.”</p><p>“I don’t understand,” Kyle said finally. Even Tweek, who stood a few feet away unable to go anywhere that was not interrupting the two’s whispering conversation on the left and the increasingly heavy one-sided talk on the right, looked confused.</p><p>Leaning back in her seat on the verge of falling off, Bebe looked up at the wooden ceiling. “It’s not my place to tell but let’s just say that those ‘beasts’ we fought aren’t exactly what most people would call that.”</p><p>She got up and left after that, pausing to drag Kenny into a hug before retreating upstairs. Kenny gave Kyle a confused look for a moment, excusing himself from Craig who shrugged and flipped him off. The Inuit claimed Bebe’s abandoned seat, smiling at Kyle. “What’s up with Bebe?”</p><p>“I honestly have no idea,” Kyle breathed and stood up, nodding to the exit. “We should get going, we’re burning sunlight.”</p><p>“Sure. Hey Craigory, put whatever he got on Bebe’s tab will ya? And sorry ‘bout those cups.” Kenny hooked an arm around Kyle’s and dragged him out before the bartender could reply. He didn’t let go when they were outside and Kyle found himself not wanting to pull away yet, listening to Kenny chatter. “I managed to get Craig and his husband to join us in the hunt. Craig says he’s got this amazing war spear and laser eyes, I gotta see it in action.”</p><p>Laser what? “How did you know he was a...fellow hunter?”</p><p>“Uh, it’s kinda hard to explain. Y’know how you might know another ally even when they’re out of uniform or whatever? Craig had this way of holding himself, looks lazy but super alert - as if he’s trained for attacks at any moment. That and I saw the fancy fang knife under the counter and the cute feather necklace he and husband wore - it's for lovers from this tribe in Peru, they ride giant guinea pigs to wars and shoot lasers but kinda got wiped out.”</p><p>“What did you tell him then?”</p><p>“Told him I wasn’t here for him,” Kenny said with a shrug, trying and failing to keep the resentment from his voice, “some hunters think tribal peeps can be the hunted.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“So uh, what did Bebe and you talk ‘bout? She seemed kinda shaken.”</p><p>Kyle weighed the pros and cons to telling Kenny, worried that the blond might shut down like earlier. In the end, honesty won out. “She talked about your old jobs, that Wendy had a different view of it.”</p><p>“Ah, yeah I get where she’s coming from - not as bad as Red though,” Kenny replied quietly, shooting Kyle a weak smile. “We did some nasty shit.”</p><p>The gunslinger nodded and didn’t press when Kenny did not elaborate.</p><p>A sweet fragrance drifted to them, Kyle taking in a deep breath while Kenny sneezed. Amongst the buildings sat a small shop, flowers of many colours displayed behind glass and a little flower cart sat outside. Inside, Kyle could see her - lovely long black hair, a yellow summer dress and pale eyes. Leslie looked up, as if feeling his gaze and smiled at him. He couldn’t help but sigh happily, chest feeling warm as he waved in greeting. Then her eyes slid over to the side, at his companion. If anything, her smile grew wider.</p><p>Kyle would have been okay with standing there forever, if Kenny’s arm still hooked with his didn’t pull him away. They stopped by Jimbo’s to see his wares and the horse stables to Kenny’s delight - the blond spending nearly ten minutes cooing at a long legged mare of a good breed but wildly temperamental, throwing her head and flaring her nostrils at everything. They arrived eventually at their last stop, the sheriff’s office. This time, the windows were lit and Kyle’s dreamy mood was washed away by Cartman’s ranting.</p><p>He was about to tell Kenny to skip this last stop when the door was slammed open and Cartman stormed out. The sheriff stopped, surprise colouring his features before they twisted into a sneer. “Oh my fucking god, really <em> Kahl </em>? This is why you haven’t been at work? Too busy fucking your new boytoy to do your job?”</p><p>“I’m on the mayor’s orders.”</p><p>“Yeah, she sent me fucking Kevin <em>and</em> Scott to help. Diabetic people is one thing but you’d think Asians are smart - he can’t even find the damn pens.”</p><p>Kyle’s fingers found the bridge of his nose to massage the incoming headache. “That’s because you always leave them all around the office, asshole. I have to put them back every night.”</p><p>“Pssh, whatever,” Cartman blew him off and nudged Kyle aside to glare down at Kenny, “so what’s your story? Lost lover of Jews? Some poor schmuck who got lured in and now can’t leave?”</p><p>“Kenny McCormick. You’re not exactly wrong on both.” The blond gave the other a grin with too many teeth, he continued before Cartman could speak, “you’re Eric Cartman, sheriff of South Park for two years only because nobody else wanted the job,” Kenny recited as if from a book, eyeing the sheriff carefully while circling him like a hungry wolf watching a tired bear - debating if it was worth darting in for its throat. “You’re a man who’s never killed before, but led others to their death.”</p><p>“Alright <em>Kinny</em>, you may look like one of us but I can smell the savage on you.” Cartman said after a beat, his complexion a shade paler and narrowed his eyes but otherwise didn’t lash out. He twisted around to Kyle. “Oi, Jew! Get your whore outta mah face or I teach him to respect mah <em> authoritah </em>.”</p><p>The gunslinger reined back the need to bury his fist in the other’s face, tugging Kenny away by his praka on his waist. The town didn’t care if the sheriff and deputy were rough, but the presence of a stranger was different. Kyle refused to jeopardize Kenny’s safety just because he couldn’t control his anger. “Let’s go Kenny, he’s not worth it.”</p><p>Whining, Kenny let himself get pulled away but not without waving at the sheriff. “See you later, Eric.”</p><p>“How did you know all that?” Kyle asked later when they were a good distance away.</p><p>“His name is on Wendy’s list and speaking of,” Kenny leaned back with an excited smile, “it’s time to start our hunt.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i always liked the idea of kenny being friends with the ladies, modeled their squad after a l4d team (4 people co-op, 2 when split up but still enough fire power to survive a zombie apocalyptic)</p><p>half of my monsters are pun named and joke flavor text, credits to my sibling</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Phantasmal Woods</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>warning: description of a corpse and violence of a hunt</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“So religious objects and exorcisms don’t work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They probably do, the problem is matching the demon or ghost to the religion. That and finding the right person to do the exorcism, you won’t believe the market of fake until you actually bring them to fight with you - they freak out and run. That’s why it’s faster to find the summoner and beat them up until they undo the spell or whatever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that how you deal with demons?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep,” Kenny replied, lips popping the ‘p’, pulling the parka off his waist to shrug it on loosely like a coat. Kyle narrowed his eyes but allowed it since it was not Satan's armpit hot today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not just kill the person? Logically the demon and person are linked so if one dies, the other will follow.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, yeah that’s true. You can say the summoner’s the anchor to this world, but each ritual is different blah blah - sometimes killing them makes things worse. Like it can give the demon a power up or go berserk before it fucks off. Henrietta - my witch friend in Denver - can explain it better to you, we just need to collect some clues.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What kind of clues can we get from here?” Kyle questioned. They were around the outskirts of town where the homeless and drunks hung out. He didn’t understand how comfortable Kenny could be, stepping over snoring men and ducking past beggars without a second glance while Kyle edged around them with a grimace. He was glad they came before sunset, he didn’t want to bump into these folk in the dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A ‘Mr Al Gore’ is supposed to live here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh right, that guy.” Kyle recalled the rambling man who used to jump out at people from bushes or alleys, those foolish enough to listen to him - Stan had been trapped for hours - would be stuck listening to his theories and how super cereal he was. Kyle hadn’t seen him lately though, to the town’s relief. “He’s a weirdo, rants about a nonsensical cryptic and dresses up in a fursuit sometimes but harmless if you ignore him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harmless huh?” Kenny repeated with a snicker, “did you hear of the bank robber with no limbs? Police say he’s armless.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. “That was terrible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not as terrible as this Al Gore telling people of his furry fantasy. Can you imagine if he told animal puns, like ‘cat got your tongue’ or ‘oink you glad we met’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad joke level?” At Kenny’s nod, Kyle narrowed his eyes. “I’d have to arrest him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stopped at the house Al Gore rented when he came to town chasing fairy tales - a small, two storey house slowly eaten away by its overgrowth yard. Kenny took out a folded piece of paper and double-checked the address with what was written, before handing it to Kyle who took a look. “Looks like nobody’s been here for some time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Eric Cartman (madman, skip until present around his mother)<br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>My dad Randy Marsh (when drunk)<br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Al Gore (conspiracies, a weirdo)<br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>The Tweaks (constant business - the parents, not Tweek)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>To the gunslinger’s dismay, he found his mother’s name - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sheila Broflovski (starts protests/cults when crazy)</span>
  </em>
  <span> - amongst the suspects. It wasn’t wrong but still. “Did Wendy actually write this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope, Stan did but she did say the first few were worth checking,” Kenny reasoned as he knocked on the door, raising his voice an octave higher. “Anyone home? Girl scouts! We have cookies, chocolate chips and lemon bars.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop that,” Kyle hissed as he hurried to take out his deputy badge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damnit, the girl scout trick usually works,” muttered the blonde before rampaging through his pockets. He fished out a fistful of coins, a pack of cigarettes and some colourful slips of paper - food and bed coupons at the saloon, Kyle realised. “I’ve an idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’re thinking of donating that, I should warn you: the homeless people of our town can be very...persistent.” Kyle grimaced at the memory of his childhood mistake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just gotta think like a homeless dude, or like me. Same difference. Gimme your wallet real quick.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this your roundabout way of robbing me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A robber doesn’t ask,” Kenny replied with a grin, wiggling grabby hands at the gunslinger, “do you need help taking it out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That got Kyle to retrieve the wallet hastily, earning a chuckle from the other. Kyle watched Kenny take out his money, raising his brows at the amount and then replacing the empty space with some of the coupons. He handed the wallet and the cash back. “Okay, thing ‘bout us poor folks is that we usually see the big picture, not the details. In this case, the picture’s your wallet and the coupons are your details. If things go back, yeet that as far as you can and book it. I’ll buy you a new one later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With the money that you don’t have?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Monsters have bounties, plus Wendy gave me some pocket money. Let’s go.” Kenny brushed him off with a lop-sided grin, backtracking to where they had seen a group of beggars in front of an alleyway - four men, huddled together with a torn blanket. Not too close to the hoard of homeless but not cutting them off to make them feel threatened. The gunslinger frowned but hurried to follow, hoping his badge and gun would be able to deter the waiting mob. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Howdy folks,” Kenny greeted pleasantly despite not having the usual South Park charm, crouching next to them and waving the remaining coupons at them enticingly, “what do you guys know ‘bout the guy who lives over there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The beggars glanced amongst themselves, a silent discussion before one of them raised his head and hand expectantly. Without a word, Kenny handed him the coupons. The man bared yellowing teeth in a grin. “Strange fellow, talks to ‘imself about beasts and how it was gonna kill ‘im for knowing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny nodded, things they already knew. “Recently?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He stopped when </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>came,” an older man with a graying long beard spoke up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what she said,” Kenny whispered to Kyle, then cleared his throat to address the men, “who’s she?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They fell silent. Kyle glanced nervously at the homeless mob behind them who started gathering like sharks smelling blood. Kenny waved the pack of smokes and the first man licked his lips before speaking, “a lady at the dead of night. Too dark to see who but I saw her go in - never came out. Haven’t heard a peep from that fellow since.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When was that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The old man shrugged. “Do I look like I got a clock, kid?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Calendar,” Kyle automatically corrected. The beggars turned, scrutinizing and glaring in suspicion when they recognised him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, ain’t you that deputy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you’re that son of the general store lady and the bank lawyer guy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle placed a hand on his hostel with purpose and gave the people a warning glare. They backed away, but did not disperse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey if you don’t wanna talk, those guys over there look like they might.” The blond raised a brow, nodding to the other homeless folk and waving the pack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Three weeks ago,” one of them grouched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny grinned. “Was she a looker?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Long hair, tits and ass like every other lass.” They all shared a snicker before Kenny got up, knees clicking with a groan and tossed them the smokes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank ya.” Kenny looped an arm around Kyle’s securely, leading them away but was stopped by a large man. He eyed the man calmly, at the knife he held, the drunken sway and the bitter look aimed at Kyle. A man high on liquid courage, enough to recognise Kyle had money but not enough to realise he brought a knife to a gun fight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The knife pointed at Kyle. “Hand over your wallet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In one smooth move, Kyle pulled out his wallet and flung it behind them. The stomps and scrambles of feet were thunderous as the mob hurried past the two for it. However the robber didn’t move and instead eyed Kenny’s clothes, evaluating the new good quality of Donovan's craft. “You, blondie. Strip.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not even a please?” Kenny mocked lightly, cracking his knuckles as the robber stumbled towards them. Before he could do anything, Kyle stepped forward and in front of him, drawing his revolver at their wannabe robber.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Reach for the sky and face the wall,” the gunslinger ordered coldly, flicking off the safety. “I won’t ask again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man dropped the knife, shuffling for the nearest wall. He yelped when Kyle kicked the back of his legs, forcing him on his knees but fell quiet when the deputy pressed the barrel of his gun against the back of his head. Kyle stared him down, digging the gun harder. “Pull that shit again and you will </span>
  <em>
    <span>wish </span>
  </em>
  <span>I put you behind bars, understand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A trembling nod, Kenny was faintly certain the guy pissed himself too. Kyle moved away, the gun still leveled to the other’s head while he turned to Kenny. “You alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeeep. Very alright,” Kenny said happily, “don’t mind me, hero. Just gonna watch you threaten people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a huff, Kyle grabbed Kenny’s wrist - firm but not tight, he learnt from that day they met - and threw a glance at the mob. They were staying a distance away, good. Assured that they wouldn’t get jumped, he put his gun away and led them out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was badass,” Kenny breathed when they returned to Al Gore’s house. “And really hot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Kyle snapped, face flushing against his will as he tried to find a reason for his reaction - usually he was never the first to draw his gun, much less on a civilian. “I lost my temper, they knew I’m one of the richer families in town and it’s one thing to take my wallet but your clothes? Ridiculous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Has anyone told you how incredibly handsome you are when you’re angry? Because I need to start.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please don’t.” Kyle didn’t think he could take it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay, but uh, thanks for that.” Kenny gave him a smile, softer than his usual cheery grins and pink dusting his cheeks - the sight made Kyle’s heart skip a beat and ponder if he had a heart condition or was just allergic to cute confident idiots. “I was gonna kick his ass but it’s kinda nice to be defended once in a while. Maybe you should consider being a superhero from how often you’ve saved me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle rolled his eyes. “I saved you like, twice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s the heatstroke, saving me from blisters on my feet by lending me your horse, stopping those guys from starting shit at the clinic, kidnapping me for dinner with your parents - “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t kid - you were going to get killed and Wendy said she found your gear first anyway so it was a lost cause!” The gunslinger crossed his arms and glared. “And how is that considered saving you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You saved me from the trouble of finding a place to sleep,” Kenny reasoned with a wink and started up the front pouch. He tried the handle and yelped, yanking his gloved hand back. “Ow! Fucker!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay?” Kyle asked, immediately next to the other and tried to check the other’s hand, but Kenny waved him away to peer into the small window at the side of the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M’fine. Don’t touch the doorknob, fucker rigged it to shock.” Kenny narrowed his eyes. “Does this Al Gore have a lot of enemies? He’s got like ten locks. And a bear trap.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle frowned at the small window, unable to see but offered an idea. “Try the backdoor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what she said,” Kenny giggled but wandered off through the overgrown yard. “Don’t run off on me, hero. I might need you to rescue me later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle scoffed, then hesitantly peeked into the now available window. Holy shit, that </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>a bear trap. He could even make out what seemed to be a tripwire and the outline of a stake hoisted in the air likely angled to impale who triggered the wire from opening the door. He tried to see past the traps, but the house was dark. Something moved in the shadows, fluid like smoke or wisp. Then he heard a series of clicks and snaps when suddenly Kyle wasn’t looking at the traps but familiar blue eyes. He jerked back, heart racing. “Fuck! Don’t do that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Faintly he realised this was likely revenge for startling Kenny earlier that morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well aren’t ya eh toll glass of wahter. How much?” purred Kenny with a horribly thick accent as he opened the door for Kyle, leaning against the doorway. Behind him, the gunslinger could see the bear trap jaws shut and the tripwire snapped - although the sharpened stake was still hovering above.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t talk like that, it’s dumb. And I’m not for sale.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even if I paid in another way? With interest?” Kenny was wiggling his eyebrows meaningfully, biting at his lip to not laugh at his joke. Two thoughts crossed Kyle’s mind: Kenny shouldn’t do that - he might hurt himself, followed closely by Kyle should kiss him better if he did. He banished both ideas to the abyss with a firm ‘no’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop fooling around,” Kyle managed to grit out and pushed past the other, resting his hands on his guns as he called out, “Mr Gore? This is the deputy Broflovski, we would like to ask you some questions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Back door was locked but had no traps. I snooped around and disabled the ones in the kitchen and living room but don’t touch the light switches. He rigged it to release hornets.” Now that Kenny mentioned it, Kyle could hear faint buzzing in the walls. Ew. “Okay, there are three main rules of creepy haunted houses. First rule: don’t get separated, which we kinda fucked up so skip to the second rule: don’t go into toilets, attics or basements.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the third?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never look back when running away, wastes precious time and effort.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle nodded. It was solid advice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks like he was barricading himself in,” Kyle observed when he surveyed the room. Dust on the floor was only disturbed by their footprints. Were the traps set before or after the mystery woman visited? Was she still inside? But the homeless man said he never saw her leave. Perhaps there was a hidden exit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny gave him a side-eyed glance. “Or he was locking something out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The house was silent, barring them and the hidden hornets. Windows boarded up, floors moldy but surprisingly free of any mess or litter. Kyle looked up the stairs with unease, glancing back at Kenny who was inspecting a bookshelf in the hallway. The Inuit squinted, then pulled one of the many books from its siblings. “He’s either a famous writer or a narcissist or both. Probably both.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle joined him, the shelves were choked full of homemade books - he half expected to find one bounded in skin. He peered at the book Kenny held in hand. “Signs of the ManBearPig Living in your House by Al Gore the 45th Vice President of the United States.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe he has a fetish for hunky cops,” Kenny hummed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does the police have to do with that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny gave him a nonplussed look. “Because cops are pigs? Wends said Sheriff Cartman’s a living example.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle raised a finger and opened his mouth to retort, then lowered his hand after a moment. “Point taken.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The deputy though? I heard he’s not too bad,” the blond teased as he stored the book into his pocket, “he’s real handsome, goes ‘round saving strangers from baking alive and Bebe says his ass is </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That’s like, god tier booty if Bebe compliments it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re one to talk,” the gunslinger countered without thinking, then bit his tongue and berated himself mentally when the blond froze. “Uh, I didn’t mean it in a negative way, I just - your butt is great, I wasn’t staring or anything.“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was why Kyle was still single. He never knew how to properly flirt, compliments fell flat whenever he tried to sweet-talk and in his youth girls would date him only to break out a few weeks later complaining that he wasn’t trying hard enough or too awkward or focused on his studies too much. Stan had tried to help him, teach him to serenade and dance but he couldn’t hold a rhythm to save his life - much to Cartman’s delight at the stereotype proven true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well you should - stare I mean, since I don’t always have mirrors to look at it myself.” Kenny interrupted with amusement light in his voice and flushed cheeks. He seemed to notice the latter, reached up to tighten the strings of his hood - only to realise that he was still wearing the hat Kyle got him instead of his hood. He then blinked and shoved his hat down to cover his face, turning away from the gunslinger. “Anyway let’s just check the rest of the house. Upstairs or basement?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Basement.” Something about the upstairs gave him a bad sensation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blond nodded, leading the way into the kitchen. The basement door was left ajar, dark steps into nothing until they found a few candles in the cupboards and lit them with Kyle’s lighter. Kenny wedged the door open with a chair, muttering something about not wanting to get trapped again because a mysterious indoor breeze blew it shut. The bottom was surprisingly empty aside from a dozen cans of red paint and one large bag of animal fur and leather. Kenny seemed almost disappointed as he checked the bags while Kyle searched for any hidden doors. “No fursuit, only guro furry fantasy - ohh, maybe he’s just a serial killer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I worry sometimes how casually you say these things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finding nothing, they moved upstairs much to Kyle’s displeasure. There were only three rooms upstairs, one was a study with a flipped table, papers and pens scattered as though thrown in a fit of rage, the other was bathroom - Kenny kicked it open to reveal clean and bone-dry - and lastly a bedroom that was locked. He jiggled the handle, then drew a revolver with a grumble and fired. The lock broke off and the handle turned, allowing the door to open by an inch before it was blocked by something heavy. “Fuck sake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A warning before you go guns blazing would be nice,” complained Kenny, watching Kyle struggle with the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t want to trouble you,” Kyle replied, noting that the other had his odd daggers in hand, “what’s up with those?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These bad boys?” Kenny clarified, holding the long ivory fang-like weapons. “I wrestled this boss walrus - they say he got so hungry that he ate the oysters </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>the carpenter which was why he was so big. Ripped them out from his mouth with my bare hands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Plus, they make me look cute when I do this.” The Inuit said as he raised the twin tusks up to his face mimicking fangs. “It looks better with my hood up and not a cowboy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle could easily imagine Kenny bundled up like a murderous teddy bear running around baring his ‘fangs’, it was kind of cute but that's besides the point. “Come help me with this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Locked doors usually mean something important behind them, but I don’t think we’ll find treasure here.” The Inuit studied the door and the blockage inside, head cocked as though listening past them. For a heartbeat, Kyle could have sworn that his eyes looked different, cloudy and dark but then Kenny straightened up and the moment was lost. “Nobody alive on the other side but it might be a trap, I’ll go in first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their combined effort forced the door inward, revealing a drawer that was pushed in front as a barricade - along with a revolting stench. The gunslinger reared back, coughing and covering his nose with his bandana. “The fuck is that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A corpse probably.” Kenny kept pushing until there was enough space to squeeze through, peeking into the dark room. “This is your chance to wait downstairs.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle reminded himself of Wendy’s request and his own promise. “I’m not leaving, Kenny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Kenny shot back and clambered over the drawer, unhindered by the smell. Kyle didn’t follow, watching the Inuit stalk over to the window and tore the nailed planks down to open it. Weak light flooded the room and Kyle sneered at the gruesome sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blood covered the walls and floors - some of it even on the ceiling, brown and flaking with age. Candles on the floor, burnt into nubs and arranged neatly into a circle surrounding the bed. A nude body was positioned neatly on the sheets, the skin looked like it was melting off in shades of black and red peeling away with stained bones sticking out. Bodies bloat, then pop - as Butters once said but this one had its whole torso ripped open. “What the fuck?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Definitely a ritual,” Kenny commented as he nudged one of the candles with his foot, revealing a rune hidden under the wax leftovers. Then he rubbed off the next few candles along it, reading the symbols. “But not to summon? It’s for protection I think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle couldn’t reply. He didn’t want to look at the face - he never liked seeing the faces, Cartman was usually in charge of murders because he found them cool - but as the only authority in the building, Kyle had to identify the body so he made himself look up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flowers. Little white flowers growing all over the face, hiding whatever features were there. Kyle then realised there was a sickly sweet smell in the air, mixing with rotting flesh. His stomach rumbled violently and the gunslinger turned away, kept going until he found himself crouching in the overgrown yard outside trying not to vomit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few minutes later, a pair of old boots stepped next to him and Kenny sat down. They didn’t talk, Kyle staring at the grass, pushing down his nausea while Kenny gazed up at the pink-red sky. It was getting late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to go back,” Kyle said finally, voice tight in his throat, “and I need to inform the morgue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Male, fifties to seventies, dead for maybe two or three weeks guessing from the rot. Bear attack is the closest if I had to guess, but I almost wanna say it looked like something tore him open from the inside,” offered Kenny as he pulled out the book he took earlier from his pocket, finding a certain page and holding it out to the other. “Still, he wasn’t wrong about the bear part of ManBearPig.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle squinted at the frantic scribbles that were ‘super-duper cereal’. “Half man, half bear and half pig isn’t mathematically possible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It matches well with the witness's description but I’m more worried ‘bout the flowers. I’ve never seen plants grow on corpses,” Kenny commented while he snapped the book shut and placed it down, “is it a South Park thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. It’s not,” Kyle then recalled the bodies he found in the tunnel, and realised there was a similarity to the one in the house, “where are the flies? The room was locked but not that secured. Surely there would be flies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny hesitated, licking his lips. “Bugs avoid what’s been touched by something not from this world. Our dude has magic involved in his death.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle didn’t know if he should point out the fact of the bandits in the same state but found himself biting his tongue when Kenny stood up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, let’s get you home,” the blond said and offered him a hand. “You don’t look too good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gunslinger frowned at the hand yet reached for it anyway. “The body - “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I already locked up the house and contacted Wends, she says she will send someone from the morgue.” Kenny told him as he tugged him up, flashing the gunslinger a small handheld device that looked like a small radio with B.Stevens written on it. Kyle had seen rotary dial phones and radios but never so tiny like this. “Wendy got Bebe to lend me her communicator since those bandits broke mine, we’re doing most of the leg work after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a pause, before the blond offered it to him and Kyle felt faintly sheepish at being caught staring. “Just don’t drop it, Bebe will skin me alive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, they started down the street and away from the house. Kenny taught him to operate the device and its features but could only give shrugs at the whys or hows it worked. “No idea, the company just gave these to their best and claimed it was one of a kind. Guess it is, since it can track your status and whatnot to alert your companions in case you need help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was that how Wendy found your stuff?” Kyle asked, raising his brow at the heartbeat monitor and estimates of their - Kenny’s location. He also realised that the Inuit had been trying to distract him from the corpse, it worked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably. She used to listen to our hearts, creepy but in a weird mom of the team way? Red turned hers off years ago, so Wends could only listen to mine - the radio silence must have tipped her off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were almost to his house - Kenny quietly humming a tune while Kyle listened and tinkered with the communicator - when the redhead stopped in his tracks and returned the device. “You’re staying in the saloon right? Shit, that’s far. I should drop you back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, it’s fine really,” Kenny replied mid-hum, “I don’t mind the walk and I wanna delay the part where Bebe smothers me in my sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...You can stay another night if you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny stared at him, mouth agape with surprise that quickly morphed into delight. Kyle kept his gaze forward, tugging the brim of his hat down and ignoring the burn of his face. He heard a chuckle and felt the blond shift closer, their arms brushing with every step.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My hero,” Kenny cooed with a hand over his chest, mimicking a swooning damsel, “saving me yet again - this time from a woman’s fury.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quiet you,” Kyle shot back but didn’t pull away, letting their hands bump against each other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The flower shop looked as lovely as it always was, more so when Kyle stood in the doorway. The vial sample was warm in his palm, the small white flower sitting innocently inside with the stem covered in drying blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The town’s mortician Michael who had confirmed the corpse to be indeed the late Al Gore - death by blood loss and was missing his heart according to the report. No signs of struggle or broken entry, the idea of where the fuck his heart was befuffled them. Michael refused to let the deputy into the morgue because he was a dirty conformist, only passing the sample to Stan who was now standing beside him. His best friend looked bored, tapping his foot impatiently. “Dude can we hurry up? We’ve got plans tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right, Wendy had found a trail at the edge of town. Not quite the monster or ManBearPig they were looking for - since it didn’t leave tracks in the first place - but Kenny had confirmed that it sure as hell wasn’t human and worth checking out. Kyle took a deep breath and entered the shop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leslie stood behind the counter, hands fluttering over an array of flowers and ribbons on the desk. She looked up and smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello Kyle,” Leslie greeted him so sweetly that Kyle couldn’t help but smile back, “it’s been awhile. How have you been?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m good,” he thought of the past two weeks of finishing the sheriff’s leftover work and guarding sleeping cattle, then meeting Kenny and the whole mess of the ‘ManBearPig’ but there was no way he could voice that out. Leslie was smart, polite and everything of a proper lady - talking to her always left Kyle feeling warm butterflies in his stomach. They got along well and his mother adored her, always asking him to invite her over - although that had lessened with the new addition of Kenny in the household. “How’s business?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind him, Stan snorted at him. Kyle could practically hear his best friend’s ‘wow, really?’ at his mediocre reply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blooming, you could say. I’ve been trying a new fertilizer, the flowers are wonderful.” The lady giggled at her own pun, setting down her work, “are you here for a gift?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not quite.” What could he give a florist? Definitely not flowers, maybe jewelry or something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh? I thought maybe you were here to get something for that friend of yours. I saw you with him the other day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Huh, that was an idea but he wasn’t sure if Kenny would like flowers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This may sound strange, Kyle but I heard a little rumour,” Leslie started softly, dragging the gunslinger’s attention back to her as she glanced at Stan over his shoulder, the warrior busy contemplating a bouquet of roses, “is it true that you lent that friend your clothes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” Kyle momentarily forgot how to speak. Man, he didn’t think of the rumors - lending a stranger his clothes and then buying them new ones. The townsfolk did love to gossip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was wearing a concerned expression and leaned closer, lowering her voice to a mock-whisper, “people say he is a - how do you put it politely, the male version of a working woman?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gunslinger blinked slowly as if waking up from a long dream, the butterflies in his gut silenced when he processed her implications. “Kenny is not a prostitute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” Leslie quickly amended and placed a dainty hand on Kyle’s arm, whatever vague offense he might have felt for his friend being called a whore fell away and the butterflies returned with a vengeance. “Tell me about this Kenny. He sounds like a nice guy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...he is - “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure Kyle has a lot to say about Ken, but we’re here on business.” Stan barged in between them impatiently, shouldering his best friend aside to snatch the vial from his limp hand. He thrusted it into Leslie’s vision. “Ever seen this flower?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leslie frowned at him, then held out a hand. “No, but I’ve a few floral encyclopedias at home. I could check it for you if you let me have it for a few days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Stan began, pulling the vial away. “This is crime evidence, miss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle elbowed his friend, grabbing the vial from him. “Dude it’s fine. Leslie is an amazing florist, she will help. If we lose it, we can just get more.” He didn’t wait for Stan’s reply, presenting the sample to Leslie. “Here, sorry about him. And thanks for your help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lady smiled and took the vial carefully, inspecting it from different angles.“It’s fine, I’ll get back to you in a few days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan purchased the roses for Wendy and Kyle lingered longer than necessary to exchange farewells until his best friend rolled his eyes, resorting to dragging him out. Kyle fought his way out of his grip, glaring at the warrior. “You didn’t have to be so rude, Stan. I was talking to her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were standing there making awkward small talk for five minutes and all she did was smile. It was creepy, if I were a chick I’d ask you to leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’d make an ugly chick. Remember your dad as Lorde?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, dude you promised not to bring that up,” groaned Stan at the memory of his father, “what I’m saying is that I’d still be cooler than Leslie anyway. If she were spice, she’d be flour. What do you see in her anyway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s just something about her,” Kyle started then stopped himself. Stan wouldn’t understand how perfect Leslie was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever, let’s just go prepare for tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She would help him, his mind ensured him as they walked away from spring flowers and heavy fragrances, Leslie was trustworthy and it was unquestionable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything would be fine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So I have good news, bad news and very bad news,” Kenny began with false solemness befitting a priest at a funeral trying not to laugh at the deceased’s funny name - like Cummie Cumminghans, “which do you want first?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is the very bad news being Cartman’s presence?” Stan asked tiredly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, but that is pretty bad too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ey, fuck you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wendy, who had not moved at all the moment she laid down in her sniping position or looked away from her sights - much to Stan’s concern, finally turned away to glare down at the blond. “Kenneth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay. The good news is that the people on your list are innocent. Even Cartman.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow really?” Stan asked with genuine surprise from his place in the shadows, “I thought he would have at least some dirt on him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, yeah he does. Just not the demonic summoning dirt we’re looking for. If anything, I’d say it's his mom - her tits were so soft and perky for someone her age, it has to be witchcraft.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle reached down to smack the blond. “Kenny!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the same time, an obnoxiously orange cheese covered snack was thrown. Kenny ducked away from Kyle to snap up the cheesy poof out from the air. “Ey! Don’t talk about my </span>
  <em>
    <span>mwam </span>
  </em>
  <span>like that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who invited Cartman anyway?” Stan whined, burying his face against the closest person - Kenny’s shoulder. The blond wordlessly reached out to pat him on the head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one because I had to invite myself! I’m the fucking sheriff and you guys were holding out on me! Seriously, monster hunting? You should have called for </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I’ve got more experience than this penniless piece of shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a starving homeless guy that you shot that night, not the Jewpacabra - which doesn’t fucking exist,” Kyle growled at him, getting up to loom over the sheriff until Wendy shot him a warning look, “and don’t call Kenny that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cartman, being himself, zoned into the last part. “Aww, getting defensive over your boyfriend? That’s really gay, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kahl</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And I’m not wrong: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kinny </span>
  </em>
  <span>has no money, he’s living with you because everyone saw him leave your house and I bet he gets coupons from Wendy. He’s the living embodiment of the poor like those stupid charities rich fucks likes to donate to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about the bad news Ken?” Wendy pressed, trying to bring them back to topic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bad news is that we still don’t know who’s the witch. I’m tempted to go to Denver just to ask my friend, but it’s kinda a big cheatsy doodle - and a really messy one too if we don’t have enough clues.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about those flowers you talked about?” Wendy glanced at the deputy. “You mentioned that you gave a sample to someone who knew plants.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh yeah, I showed it to Leslie,” Kyle informed her with a half grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s Leslie?” He heard Kenny whisper to Stan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kyle’s crush, owns a flower shop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about the ‘very bad news’ you mentioned?” Kyle quickly inquired, hoping to change the subject. The quiet disappointment in Kenny’s voice drew an uncomfortable blend of guilt, longing and annoyance - he didn’t know if it was targeted at himself or the Inuit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The very bad news is that the ManBearPig has already started killing humans - namely your homeless populations and outcasts like Al Gore. Judging from what I heard from the beggars and when the cow killings started, it’s probably strong now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>is supposed to draw out the ‘ManBearPig’?” the warrior demanded confusedly, waving to the lone cow in the field and the homeless guy beside it. Farmer Denkins was upset enough to lend them one of his last cows without question, spending the night in the saloon. The five of them hid behind the large haystack next to the field; Kyle, Wendy and Cartman on top while Kenny and Stan hid in the shadows below. Range above and behind for a better angle to shoot, melee in front to rush the target and defense at Wendy’s insistence. “And why does Cartman get to be on top? He’s going to crush us if he falls.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a great idea,” Cartman defended as he pointed an accusing cheese dusty finger at Stan. “We hide all the other cows and homeless in the community center and tell everyone to stay indoors so there’s only these two left. The monster comes out, pew pew, we win. And fuck you, Stan, that’s why.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They turned to Kenny, who shrugged helplessly. “Cartman bribed that guy with a bottle of rum to stand there and said he would give another if he survived the fight. But Stan’s right, we should seriously move.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that agreement, the warrior and hunter shifted away from the dangerous overhead weight that was Eric Cartman on the haystack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I out-bribe him with,” Kyle started digging through his coat pockets, searching for something of use, “twenty dollars, a chocolate bar and my pen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Piss off stupid Jew, go bribe your own homeless man. Or </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kinny</span>
  </em>
  <span>, yeah - go bribe </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kinny </span>
  </em>
  <span>instead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can add some mixed nuts and dog treats,” Stan added helpfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny offered up a mess of fluff and threads proudly. “A lint furball.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cartman went red in the face before he turned to the only female of the group and whined loudly, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Wendyyy</span>
  </em>
  <span> they’re trying to fuck up my plan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As much as it pains me to say this, he’s got a point,” Wendy relented dully, wincing at the sheriff’s gleeful laughter. “This eliminates all other options and as long as the ManBearPig doesn’t break into houses, our bait’s the only easy targets.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Nana nana na naaa</span>
  </em>
  <span> - I’m gonna win the bet,” the sheriff sang, flicking bits of hay at Kyle and ducking behind Wendy when the deputy growled menacingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t the bet!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It sure is - I said money bait, which was the money I used to get the bait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No it’s not!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes it is, stupid Jew!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wendy let out a low growl, breaking her sniper position to sit up and stare them both down. “Actually I changed my mind, I’ve a hundred dollars. How many bottles could we buy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ten of cheap booze, one of the good stuff,” Stan replied and wilted under Wendy’s questioning look, then hastily protested, “My dad keeps complaining to everyone about the cost. I haven’t touched a bottle for months!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure you didn’t,” Cartman quipped with a shit-eating grin, ignoring Wendy’s angry look. “Anyone can be hands-free if they use a straw or hook it up to your veins.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut </span>
  <em>
    <span>up </span>
  </em>
  <span>fatass,” Stan spat, knuckles white on the handles of his hatchet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm not fat!" A sneer stretched the sheriff's lips, voice raising into a mocking lint. "Poor Stanley, can’t sleep without his baby bottle of alcohol. Careful Testaburger, you’re gonna marry another Randy at this rate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wordlessly, Wendy shoved Cartman off the haystack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan covered his face at the angry yells of the sheriff. “Can we just kill him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get in line then,” Kyle grumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A short silence fell upon them after Cartman managed to climb back up and they all calmed down. The grass danced in the chilling night wind, crickets chirping a melody. It was peaceful. The homeless man burped loudly, Cartman and Kenny sniggered. Still peaceful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cartman,” Wendy began quietly, setting back into her prone position and lining up her sights on the cow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woman,” Cartman replied evenly as he finished up his bag of cheesy poofs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When you said you put the cows and homeless people in the community hall, did you mean you put them together inside? All three hundred cows and our sixty or so homeless folk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a pause, then a noisy inhale as Cartman started scooting off the haystack. Without looking away from the bait, Wendy grabbed him by his coat and dragged him back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle had a brilliant idea. “Why don’t we pay the homeless guy to go away and use fatass as the replacement? Everyone in favour, say I.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Echoes of ‘I’ came from the others except for Kenny, who merely piped up from the shadows. “This is nice, kinda reminds me of old times.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” was all Wendy managed to say before she tensed, releasing Cartman for her gun. “Company.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle spied the shadow creeping towards the field while Cartman swore loudly when his gun slipped from his cheesy fingers. Below them Stan stiffened but it was Kenny who made the first move, the hunter pulling his hood tighter and slipping out of the shadows to the field - prowling behind the tall fence and rounding the edge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It looked like a big mangy dog or an oversize rat - nothing like the huge creature Kyle had seen that night. Covered in scales instead of fur and in a sick green-gray shade, he noted as it neared the fence, like a living skeleton of someone stretched out and armed it with long fucking claws that dug into the wooden post like butter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A gloved hand was raised above the fence from where Kenny was, barely visible in the distance. It was clenched into a fist and unmoving, a signal to wait. Wait and observe, Kenny said: see what it hunted, how it moved, why it fought. Kyle’s fingers twitched and he saw Wendy frown deeply but obeyed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The creature hopped the fence, sneaking up to the cow and pressed its face to its neck - a flash of fangs before it sunk them into flesh. The cow shuddered and let out a spooked noise, but otherwise didn’t struggle. The creature then pulled away, licking its chops of blood and sulking away - until it caught sight of the drunk man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blood sucker, moved on fours but can stand on two to feed. Victims don’t seem to notice it but it drank enough to leave the cow’s limbs shaking. If it could do that to a full grown cow, it could do worse to the homeless man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny’s fist spread open and a single finger pointed to the beast, then lowered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fire, on my count,” the mayor said calmly, her rifle humming ominously and frost climbed the barrel. Kenny and Stan were in position, hidden on either side of the creature waiting to ambush. “Three, two - “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The creature twitched at the resounding bang, looking down at the bullet hole that missed its foot by an inch. It looked back up, past the fence and its prey, at Cartman. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It screamed and leaped over the prey, aiming for Cartman but then was slammed into the ground when a blur of brown tackled it. Kenny raised his daggers, stabbing and digging into its slim frame again and again - Stan swung his hatchet at its wrist, trying to incap it whilst avoiding the long claws.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle heard two very distinct war cries - one was Stan’s ‘my hatchets seek blood!’ and Kenny’s extremely muffled ‘prepare to get fucked up!’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Plan B,” Wendy told them and jumped off their perch towards the fight, rolling into a smooth crouch to take aim and fire. Ice exploded on the monster’s leg and the edges on Kenny, pinning them to the ground but the Inuit shook it off like water on a duck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle followed closely, hopping the fence and turned to the bait. The cow had run off into the corner furthest away from the conflict but the homeless man was still sitting there, empty bottle of whiskey in hand. Plan B was simple: if Plan A where they killed the creature with a single shot failed, Plan B was where Kenny and Stan delayed it, Wendy would join them while Kyle and Cartman would get their bait to safety before entering the fray. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cartman ignored the Plan of course, following Wendy and taking pot shots at the wiggling creature. “Damnit </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kinny</span>
  </em>
  <span>, stop getting in my shot!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shoot my boyfriend or Kenny and I’ll fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill </span>
  </em>
  <span>you Eric!” Wendy screamed at the sheriff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all fought differently and it was a fucking mess. Wendy was controlled, every pull of the trigger strict and calculated. Stan had strong swings, alternating between one or both his hatchets to block and attack while Cartman was all over the place, forcing the creature to dance to avoid his bullets. Kenny was beautifully wild, Kyle couldn’t help but think, he fought like there was nothing left to lose - Kyle could see a flash of white, teeth bared not in a snarl but a devil may care grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yanking the homeless man by the arm, Kyle wrestled him to hide with the cow. There was an abrupt squeal that morphed into an ear-ringing wail as the creature turned and fled away from the guns - with Kenny still clinging onto its back with his daggers locked in flesh while Stan held onto the hatchet he had sunk into its skull, feet on its shoulders and trying to yank his weapon out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit,” Kyle breathed as he raced after them. He was closer to it than Wendy and Cartman were so he took aim at its legs in hopes of slowing it down - but the monster was fast and the distance between them grew. Stan gave up on his hatchet, dropping away from the screaming beast - yet Kenny held on stubbornly, wrenching out a dagger to stab the spine while the other stayed in its back to maintain his position.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let go of it, Ken!” the gunslinger heard Wendy order. However, the creature slowed briefly to reach back and grab Kenny, yanking him off. Kyle could see its claws sink into the Inuit, one of them sinking into his chest - the tip of it emerging from his back. He heard the pained gasp, but no screams. Kenny simply twitched and then grabbed the claw and forced it deeper into his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you in hell,” coughed Kenny, before he went limp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle shifted his revolver higher and fired. It dropped Kenny, shuddering as the bullets drove into its skull and neck - yet remained standing. The monster twisted away to flee from the field then curiously wobbled, taking only a few steps before collapsing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wendy and Stan made their way to the downed creature, Cartman crowing his victory but all Kyle could focus on was Kenny. The Inuit laid in a puddle of his own blood, a gaping wound in his chest and red running down the corner of his lips. Cloudy eyes staring at nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god, it killed Kenny.” He heard Stan exclaim behind him. Strangely, Wendy didn’t acknowledge her fallen friend, more focused on confirming the kill. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That bastard,” Kyle breathed, kneeling beside Kenny. Regret bubbled in his chest, chewing into his heart that he never got to tell him that he kind of really liked him more than a friend. The urge to cradle Kenny’s limp body in his arms was overwhelming so Kyle gave in, closing his increasingly blurry eyes as he reached out - to grasp at nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle blinked away his tears. The space in front of him was empty save for a puddle of blood. He frowned when he felt his knees wet, glaring at the pants soaking in the blood. That would be a pain to wash off later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kyle,” he turned to Wendy’s call, who was helping Stan wrap a bandage around his chest and giving the gunslinger a pointed look. “Check on Kenny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh yeah. Kyle glanced around, finding the brown blob not too far away from him. Funny, how had he missed him before? Kenny stood a few feet away with his back to them. The shadows seemed to dance oddly around him, as if alive and pulsating but stilled when Kyle looked at them directly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, what're you looking at?” Kyle asked as he started to walk over. Part of him wanted to stand next to Kenny to see what he was staring at, but another part was screaming at him not to get close, that something was horribly wrong. “Kenny?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yea?” came Kenny's muffled reply fidgeting with his parka's drawstrings as he turned around. Kyle scanned him closely, no wounds or blood or broken bones. Eyes bright in the dark. He was completely fine. The feeling of dread drained away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t scare us like that again dude. You could have gotten hurt,” Kyle couldn’t help but scold the other as they made their way to join the rest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny simply laughed and Kyle narrowed his eyes, he didn’t see what was so funny. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mayor met them halfway, grabbing Kenny by the shoulder and leading him aside for a conversation of harsh whispers that started with ‘you reckless asshole’. Wendy’s brows were pinched, her lips twisted into a snarl but her hand was gentle when it settled on Kenny’s chest - Kyle’s own twitched, an unexplained feeling of concern rising then falling away before he could identify the source. Kenny merely smiled at her, patting her arm but ultimately brushed her off. The mayor didn’t look happy but they walked back to the rest regardless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Check your gear and ammo,” Wendy announced before joining Kenny to mechanically check their gear. Kyle shared a confused glance with Stan, who shrugged and followed their example. It wasn’t a bad idea, Kyle took note that he should restock his bullets later. Stan frowned at his remaining hatchet, blade broken off the handle. Cartman glared at the cheese covering his pistols as though it was their fault for being dirty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Target down, bait safe and Stan’s got a scratch on his abdomen - the only injury,” Kenny listed out to her and she nodded, satisfied with the results.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A snort came from Cartman. “You missed out yourself getting stabbed </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kinny</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, don’t joke about that,” Stan complained, glaring at the sheriff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’s not even funny,” Kyle supported.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pfft. You guys act like you didn’t laugh when Chef pooped his pants after he died.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cartman, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>were the only one who did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nooo</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wendy narrowed her eyes at Cartman, before turning her attention to Kenny who was squatting by the corpse. “Well?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“El Chupacabra. Denver has a bounty for it, has the scar down the side like the description said,” Kenny commented loudly as he poked at its open maw. “Usually they aim for sheep but I guess this one got desperate, with the current competition and us hiding most of their food. Wonder what it's doing so far south though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wendy made a disgusted noise. “Stop touching the corpse Ken.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there a Jewish kind of chupacabra?” Cartman inquired when he waddled over, “this one has to be Mexican - it’s got El in the name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Monsters don’t really have religions,” Kenny reasoned blankly as he yanked the hatchet from the chupacabra’s skull and handed it back to Stan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cartman held out a few crumpled bills to the Inuit none too subtly. “Here’s ten bucks to draw the Star of David on its chest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cartman!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Twenty and I’ll carve it into the skin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hell yeah!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough,” Wendy cut in before Kenny could take the money and avoided the fallout that was Kyle strangling their sheriff, “Cartman stop enabling him, and Kenny you need a proper </span>
  <em>
    <span>unmarked </span>
  </em>
  <span>body to claim the bounty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lame,” the sheriff grumbled to himself, “this is why we don’t bring girls with us. Screw this, I’m going home.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good riddance,” Kyle called after him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sooo,” Kenny began slowly, rocking on his heels. “How are we gonna do this? I call dibs on fifty percent, the rest of you can battle royale for the other half.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll give the mayor of Denver a call tomorrow and arrange something,” Wendy sighed heavily. “This was not quite the target we were hoping for but we can try again tomorrow. Until then Kenny, keep hunting. Kyle, accompany him and start writing reports, I need updates for every hunt starting tonight. Stan, I want all the missing people of town accounted for - see if you can find a pattern. That’s all, goodnight gentlemen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A dismissal if Kyle didn’t know better. Wendy gave Kenny a lingering look, an unspoken conversation that the Inuit pretended not to notice, catching up with the other two men and falling in step with them. They walked together, the two best friends discussing their tasks - there were only two places with the records of everyone: Butter’s clinic and the sheriff’s office so Kyle gave Stan the key - while Kenny listened. There was a brief pause to say goodnights to Stan who returned to his house, then again when the saloon came into view.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sleepover?” Kyle shyly offered when he looked over at his remaining companion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny gave him a grin. “Sleepover.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Later that night - or morning - Kyle lit his lantern and wrote the report. He was exhausted, eyelids drooping but the adrenaline from the fight was still in his blood and mind racing to put it all in words. I’m a mess, he mused as his brain tried to force the events into a proper story.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had everything down except for the last part: what was the cause of death? He clearly saw two of his bullets hitting its head, one in its jugular and reasoned that was what killed it but he also remembered how it remained standing and shrugged it off. A delayed reaction?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rustle of blankets reminded him that he was not alone - another set of eyes wouldn’t hurt. “Hey Kenny?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A quiet hum from the bedroll, sleepy but awake enough to reply. Good enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know what exactly killed the chupacabra? I need it for Wendy’s reference.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A long moment passed, Kyle assumed the other had fallen asleep when the Inuit twisted around. The blanket lifted enough for a pair of twinkling blue to peek out at him. “What do you remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle frowned but recited the trail of events he wrote, voice cracking at the part where Kenny had been grabbed by the chupacabra which then dropped him without so much of a scratch. Kenny blinked slowly - assaulting Kyle with the memory of standing in the Denkins farm looking into the distance. Shit, he still hadn’t found out what those purple eyes belonged to. Maybe he could ask the other to help hunt it down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damage over time,” Kenny said with a wink after listening to his story. “It was too messy to say who gave the killing blow exactly, Wends will understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gunslinger relented and wrote Kenny’s explanation down. Swiftly, he packed up his pens and placed the report safely in the drawers before stepping over the blanket lump carefully to head to bed. “Kenny?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A grunt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you’re okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Same,” the blond sighed and turned away from him, “night, Ky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Ken.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I find out I enjoy writing cartman being an asshole and idk how to feel, writing these guys is chaotic af and i love it</p><p>chapters might slow down cuz break is over and sch is starting. do you guys think the chapters are too long tho? the word count is growing and i worry it might hurt ppl eyes while reading :v</p><p>lemme knw if it is, thanks for reading</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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